


Show Your Skin

by Skeletons_to_Ashes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Homophobic Language, I'm sure I'm forgetting tags that I will hopefully remember to add in the future, M/M, Masturbation, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Permanent Injury, Romance, use of slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletons_to_Ashes/pseuds/Skeletons_to_Ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi, dreaming of graduating from college with his life completely together, enters his freshmen year only to have his carefully planned out future come tumbling down on top of him in the form of his roommate, Oikawa. Referred to as the campus whore, Oikawa seems to have little to no concern about his own well-being, or future, and spends far too much of his precious time sleeping around (in Iwaizumi's humble opinion). What starts off as deep hatred for the obnoxious man Iwaizumi is convinced has ruined every chance he had at a normal life slowly turns to strange feelings buried deep within him. Forcing Iwaizumi to question his own sexuality, along with his uncertain attraction towards Oikawa. But can he manage to keep himself upright long enough to pull Oikawa out of the hole he's dug for the both of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two BL dramas (if you can name them, you're awesome. This will, hopefully, have a better ending, but I can make no promises), along with a quote by one of my beautiful friends. When speaking about her first roommate constantly having sex in the bed next to her, "I felt like I was in a ménage à trois, and I didn't enjoy it." 
> 
> As a fair warning, there will be quite a number of slurs used by other students when referring to Oikawa throughout this fic, and there will be mentions of homophobia. I am not straight myself, and will never treat these topics as any less serious than they are. 
> 
> And, for those at work, the first few paragraphs depict a mild sex scene.

Rough fingers rolled down damp skin, pressing against exposed hipbones as his thumbs kneaded into the space between them and his leg. Hands gripping firmly at the other’s slender frame. Fingertips burning against his skin, as if consumed by fire, as those hands slide to his back. Slotting, clumsily, into the thick fabric of his pants. Sweat from those greedy fingers licking against him, as the man’s hands grabbed hold of the younger’s ass. Fingers shifting dangerously towards his center, each one moving forcibly forward, becoming more careless with each touch. Harder and harder became the presses against him, and the more uncomfortable the fiery, slick movements made him. The man’s advances served more as a steadily increasing source of annoyance to Oikawa, as he watched the once stoic man fumble with his zipper. Gaze glued to the younger’s crotch and body; he had yet to look Oikawa in the eyes. Lips moist, as his tongue crossed over them for what must have been the thousandth time. Hands tearing at his pants; so wet and unsteady that he struggled with the simple clasp before him. 

Boredom lingered in Oikawa’s eyes, as he yanked away from the other’s forceful grip. Nails scrapping along his hips, and scratching into his skin as his hands seized the man’s wrist with a powerful grip. Startled the man shifted against the younger’s hold, gaze never meeting his. Even as the older man’s face flushed a thousand colors beneath Oikawa’s. “You’re edger,” Oikawa stated, thrusting the other’s hands back towards his own body, and leaning forward. Back arched as he hovered over the man’s legs. Hands pressed against the bed to keep him from falling. Closing the gap between them without hesitation. Lips pressed against the man’s. The other’s tongue shoved itself hard against Oikawa’s mouth, slotting between them in order to thrust itself into the younger. Drool drowning Oikawa’s tongue beneath the stranger’s, as it wrapped tightly around it. Strangling it, and sucking out all of the air from Oikawa’s lungs, as he pushed himself harder and harder against the boy until Oikawa was forced to set his hands against the man’s chest, and shove him off. Yanking his tongue away from the hardened man, to allow a series of pants to slip past his drenched lips. 

The stranger’s hands moved to his own pants, yanking them down hastily, as Oikawa’s lungs slowly began to recover from the fire that had been forced into them. Throat dry, as he closed the distance Oikawa had made just moments ago. Rising slightly, uncertainly, as Oikawa moved closer to him, the man’s hands latching out to grasp Oikawa’s head between them; desire consuming him once again. Fingers digging deep into Oikawa’s fluffy hair, and the boy leaned forward. Tongue ghosting over the stranger, as he felt the man jerk against his chest. A loud moan slipping past the man’s lips, as his hold on Oikawa tightened, forcing the boy downward. Leaning into the sensation of his tongue brushing along him until he thrust himself into the younger’s mouth, no longer willing to put up with the other’s teasing. Smacking his pelvis against the other’s jaw. And Oikawa’s tongue wrapped around him, mouth gliding along him, as he drowned out the sound of the other’s moans banging against his ears. Ignoring the sensation of the thick liquid forming against his tongue. Dismissing the pain that rang through his body from the force the stranger used to cling to him. Numb to the taste of the man before him. 

XXX

Hajime Iwaizumi, he doesn’t stand out in a crowd, and he was the type to always dodge past the center of a room. Never one to enjoy attention, and always a bit too serious for his own good. Not a genius, and far from a prodigy. Average, but a bit standoffish. And voted most likely to remain a virgin after graduation. This was how he had been described by his peers when his class had graduated. Combined with a few whispers from the braver students who claimed this extremely serious and studious individual hadn’t made it into his first pick of universities. He had never been one to befriend others easily, for he had a bad habit of looking dour at most hours of the day, and the few he had were quick to devour the rumors circulating about the grand failure he had become. Embarrassing was the ‘legacy’ this cold boy was leaving behind. Yet, college would be different. He was a stranger here. He could recreate himself, and rewrite his legacy. This was the start of his new life, of a new version of himself. And he was determined to make the most of it. 

Inhaling the salty taste of sweat, spoiled food, and coffee, a frown etched itself onto Iwaizumi’s harsh features. Fists clutching so tightly onto his bags that his knuckles were slowly turning a ghostly shade. Brows pulling so tightly together they nearly kissed. Creases, that were threatening to become a permanent part of the boy’s face, dug into his forehead until they were so deep they appeared to be scars. His skin boiling with a growing rage that slithered through him, and as that anger seeped into every crevice of his brain until all he could manage to spit out was an incredibly insightful and thoughtful, “What?” 

Shifting on her heels, the woman behind the front desk glued her gaze to the growing stack of objects between them. Fingers twirling around one another, as she fumbled with the hem of her shirt. “I’m so very sorry, sir,” She began, emphasizing her words as if Iwaizumi was in need of all of the clarification she could possibly give him, “Unfortunately, it seems housing made a mistake with your room assignment.” She ducked closer to the desk, as if to shield herself from the fit of anger she was expecting to burst out of the boy at any given moment. Slowly adding objects to the pile to protect her from the blow. “So, I’m afraid we can’t place you with another freshman.” She hesitated before finally admitting, “We do; however, have an opening with one of our sophomores.” 

Iwaizumi was still trying to grasp how housing could have screwed up badly enough to not have room for all of their incoming students, when the cowering woman mentioned that his only shot at getting a room was moving in with an upperclassman. Well, it was better than not having a room at all. A sophomore should be more reasonable than anyone fresh out of high school anyway, right? “That’s fine.” 

The woman chanced a glance past the stack of items between them, as if she didn’t believe matters could have possibly been settled so easily. “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together, and her spine stretched back to its normal length in order to eagerly jam her fingers against the keys on the screen before her. A bit too quickly for Iwaizumi’s liking, but he couldn’t exactly take back his words now. 

Yanking a drawer open, she snatched a card out of it, and shoved it at the boy. “You’ll be in room 142. Remember, you won’t be able to change roommates until two weeks into the semester,” She said these words in such a way that they almost came off as a threat to the boy. “Good luck!” He was unsure if her words were intended to be a thoughtful wish for his first semester, or if they were aimed at his unfortunate rooming situation. Regardless of their deeper meaning, he took the card from her while easing the tension that had been building up in his hand from strangling the strap of his bag. 

“Thanks.” He could have sworn he heard the woman sigh in relief when he turned his back, but he brushed it off. Taking hold of his aged suitcase, he dragged its rusty wheels along the sleek floor behind him, as he repeated, “Room 142,” under his breath. As if he had o reassure himself that this room was actually going to be his. A part of him still unable to believe that housing had even managed to find him a room after the hour-long escapade he had to go through in order to get one. 

With the squeak of ailing wheels, he turned down a nearby hall. Gaze wandering over each plain plaque nailed to the wall. Until he hit one that had “142” carved uneasily into its thick surface. Preparing himself, he sucked in a breath before lifting the key to swipe it, fumbling with the small object until he finally managed to slide it through. A soft click sounded, and he reached out to yank the door open. But it didn’t budge. Annoyed, he repeated the process at least half a dozen more times. A glare settling onto his features, and he was ready to march his way back down to the front office, when he heard a collection of whispers behind him. Turning he spotted a pair of students walking past him. Fingers shoved carelessly in his direction, and voices high with airy laughter. 

“You must be new,” The taller boy spat out after he met Iwaizumi’s gaze, meaty finger jammed in the direction of the doorknob. Drawing Iwaizumi’s attention to a sock wrapped neatly around the handle, but this only served to further increase his confusion. And it showed. Brows yanking tightly together, as his feet shifted beneath his weight. Resulting in a few whispers between the boys that made Iwaizumi doubt whatever was coming next was intended to be helpful. 

“Try knocking,” The other one said. “The door’s locked.” The grin that stretched across this man’s face made Iwaizumi want to do everything but knock on the damned door. 

“Oh, thanks.” He returned. Hesitating as he lifted his fist to the door. Even if he didn’t trust the hushed laughter echoing behind him, he also failed to understand the consequences that knocking could bring. And he banged his hand against the door. “Uh, the door’s locked,” He called. And the two boys behind him lost it. 

A loud, inhuman shriek sounded from behind the door followed by a series of crashes, shouts, and stumbling feet that flew towards the locked door. Iwaizumi, startled, just barely managed to leap out of the way, as a man flung himself from the room. Dress pants damp, and falling off of his hips, as his sweaty fingers fumbled to keep them from slipped down to reveal the bulge nestled beneath them. His suit only half on his torso. The other half tucked between his side and elbow, dragging on the ground behind him. A Iwaizumi could manage to do was stare at the space where the fleeing man had sprung from while the boys behind him exploded with laughter that could have rivaled the volume of the man’s shriek. His mouth partially open, as if he wanted to say something, but every word Iwaizumi had ever known had been ripped right out of his lungs. 

He barely even managed to register the sound of soft footsteps against the carpet. His bewildered gaze shifting to the boy who appeared before him. Eyes threatening to leap out of their sockets at the sight of yet another partially dressed man. His frame leaning easily against the door before him. His pants loosely clinging to his harsh hips, zipper still hanging open to reveal bones that pressed neatly against his slender frame, and angled downwards towards the opening. Along his side, Iwaizumi could make out faint scratch marks that crawled up towards his bare, and unbelievably smooth chest. Lifting slowly, rhythmically, with each breath he took. Collarbones protruding beneath his long neck. Messy, brown hair still damp, and sticking to the boy’s forehead. A lump formed in Iwaizumi’s throat. Gaze lingering far longer than it should have. 

“U-Uh,” Was all Iwaizumi could sputter out, as he forced his eyes to meet the boy’s. A smile crept across the Oikawa’s lips. His gaze is awful, uncomfortable, and his expression almost begs Iwaizumi to punch him in his pretty boy face, but he chokes back the urge. Swallowing thickly, in a sad attempt to regain himself. Is this what the woman had meant when she said good luck? He most certainly needed it. 

“Do you know what that sock means?” Oikawa asks, jamming his thumb in the direction of the doorknob. His voice betrays no hint of annoyance, only a mild curiosity that only furthers to deepen Iwaizumi’s growing rage, and confusion. 

“I do now,” He spat back. The guys behind him are howling now, and Iwaizumi’s frustration with the entire situation is growing rapidly. He can see the older boy’s lips curving into a smirk that he wanted to rip right off his face. 

“You must be my new roommate.” The sudden enthusiasm in the boy’s voice throws him off guard, and he flinches when Oikawa flings his arm around his broad shoulders. “Wonderful,” Oikawa beams, as he yanks the helpless Iwaizumi towards his chest. 

“What the hell?” Iwaizumi twists his way out of Oikawa’s surprisingly powerful grip, turning to face him fully now. Firm features settled into a grin that only seemed to make Oikawa’s grin all the more infuriating. 

“Good luck!” One of the boys called to Iwaizumi, as they swiftly fled the scene, and at this point Iwaizumi couldn’t decide if he hated them, or his new roommate more. 

With them gone, Iwaizumi could feel himself reaching his boiling point. “The hell were you doing?” He snapped at Oikawa, loud enough to be heard from the rooms beside them. 

“Aww, I thought you said you understood what the sock meant?” 

And it was in that moment that Iwaizumi decided he, without a shadow of a doubt, hated Tooru Oikawa the most.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Oikawa gets Iwaizumi's phone number, and also makes Iwaizumi hate him more than he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support on the first chapter! It means a lot to me! 
> 
> This chapter isn't as exciting, but it's for building Iwaizumi's rather poor opinion of Oikawa.
> 
> I'm also still figuring out the formatting on this website, so I apologize, and hope the layout isn't confusing!

College, as far as Iwaizumi was concerned, was supposed to be some mythical place where one would solve every problem they had ever possessed in their entire life just so they could be spat back out into the ‘real’ world as competent adult who knew exactly what to do with their life. However, since he had stepped foot upon the grounds of this so-called mythical place, it had done everything to prove Iwaizumi’s understanding of it to be a complete lie. The hours that had passed since he had been assigned his room had been passed with nothing but, “Iwa-chan, are you mad at me?” Or, “Iwa-chan, I’m bored.” And the classic, “Iwa-chan, are you still a virgin?” Ah, yes, in the grand total of 180 minutes he had been in this hellhole, Iwaizumi had learned only three lessons:

  1.      Housing sucks.
  2.      Don’t knock.
  3.      Oikawa is stupid. 



The notebook before him was still empty, just as it had been when he had wiggled uncomfortably into the chair at his desk. Doing his damn best to pretend a certain sophomore didn’t exist. The bump on his forehead increasing in diameter every single time Oikawa opened his stupid mouth. His fingers wrapped so tightly around his pencil that they had gone completely stiff, and he wasn’t sure if he could pry the object out of them any longer. His lips set into a frown that reflected the inner turmoil of his mind, which was fixed far more on Oikawa than Iwaizumi would ever be willing to admit. His brows pulled into a sharp line, jaw clenched so tightly that one could see tension in his cheeks. Toes coiling, and uncoiling against the carpet. And his _lovely_ roommate had already stated multiple times that his current expression would become a permanent part of his appearance if he didn’t learn to loosen up quickly. According to Oikawa, Iwaizumi was dangerously close to never being able to smile again. At the moment, he believed that to be true, at least until this horrific two-week room freeze was up. For Iwaizumi found himself clinging to the chance that someone would drop out, and he could snatch their room before anyone else managed to steal it from him.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa drawled from across the room. Iwaizumi’s hold upon his poor pencil hardened at the sound of the other boy’s sweet, but incredibly annoying voice. Gaze fixed on the sheet of paper before him, as he took a deep breath. _Just ignore him. He’ll go away. Eventually._ Eventually; however, had come and gone, and Iwaizumi was tragically beginning to realize he was fighting a losing battle. But still delusional enough to believe he had a fighting chance. _“Iwa-chan.”_ And the pencil snapped in Iwaizumi’s hand at what must have been the thousandth time Oikawa had used that nickname since discovering Iwaizumi’s name. “I think you’re going to need a new pencil, Iwa-chan.” The lines on Iwaizumi’s forehead creased, and the desire to smack Oikawa only become all the more tempting. But he couldn’t. That would, after all, count as attention to someone like Oikawa.

Exhaling slowly, Iwaizumi was still making a pitiful effort to drown out the sound of Oikawa’s voice when he heard the soft sound of the older boy’s feet scrapping across the carpet. Iwaizumi sucked in the breath as quickly as it had been released, and went rigid, broken pencil still clutched within his terribly sore hand. Sharp pieces digging into his palm, but the pain was easily forgotten the moment he heard Oikawa stop moving. He was perfectly aware that the other boy was standing behind him, and was very much still attempting to ignore him entirely. Clinging to the minute hope that if he pretended Oikawa didn’t exist, he would be kind enough to stop doing so. But instead he was greeted by the uncomfortable sensation of Oikawa’s warm breath tapping against his neck. A shiver ran through Iwaizumi’s body, as a lump nestled itself deep within his throat. Oikawa leaned forward over Iwaizumi’s chair. One hand settled against the chair’s back, and the other extending in front of Iwaizumi to wiggle a pencil over his notebook. 

“W-What are you doing?” The words were a strange combination of bewildered, and angry, as Iwaizumi finally decided that ignoring Oikawa was only encouraging him. Head turning slowly to meet Oikawa’s gaze only to discover the other boy’s face was far closer to his than he had originally believed. All sense threatened to escape him, as he stared at the other boy. Soft features consuming the entirety of Iwaizumi’s range of vision. Beautiful, brown eyes staring deep into Iwaizumi’s, and he couldn’t fight back the images of Oikawa’s body that played through his racing mind.

“Giving you mine.” Oikawa’s tone changed, and his lips slipped upward into what must have been the most devious grim Iwaizumi had ever seen. He knew he had Iwaizumi, at least for the moment. Fingers slipped across the page, climbing into Iwaizumi’s hand, as he pried the broken pencil from the younger boy. Too distracted by Oikawa’s closeness to even register the movement, Iwaizumi was speechless. And Oikawa was quick to take advantage of his brief passiveness. Moving closer, and closer until his lips just barely managed to ghost over Iwaizumi’s. The light touch ignited life back into Iwaizumi, as his brain finally managed to register Oikawa’s actions. Shoving his hands against Oikawa’s chest, and forcing him back in order to prevent the touch from beginning anything more.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iwaizumi snapped, heart pounding wildly, as he flew to his feet. Hands balling into tight fists that trembled with his growing rage, and agitation towards the man in front of him. The sly smile on Oikawa’s face only frustrating Iwaizumi all the more, but that failed to prevent the lingering presence of fear that nipped at the back of his mind.

Oikawa hardly seemed deterred by Iwaizumi’s reaction. Stepping forward, and testing the strength at which Iwaizumi held him back with. Threading his hands between them in order to take hold of Iwaizumi’s, as he closed the distance between them with surprising ease. His face only mere inches from Iwaizumi’s when he spoke once again. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan, I know you want me.” His hot breath poured out upon Iwaizumi’s enraged visage. Patting against his skin with a damp heat that Iwaizumi had never felt in his life, and most certainly never wanted to feel again.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Iwaizumi’s voice had climbed up in volume now. Louder than he had ever known he was capable of, as he tore his hands away from Oikawa, shoving him back harder this time. Only feeling slightly guilty when the older boy tumbled back, struggling to keep upright.

“You’re no fun, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pouted, arms crossing before his chest. He had; however, apparently received the message now, as he made no effort to approach Iwaizumi. Instead, he only turned away and returned to his bed on the other side of the room. Iwaizumi had been adamant about the setup of the dorm. In other words, arranging their beds and desks in a fashion that assured he couldn’t see Oikawa’s bed from his own. Just in case someone failed to warn him if he brought a guest over again.

“Good,” Iwaizumi spat, turning away, and slumping back into his chair. The wooden frame creaking, as he yanked it closer to the desk. Hands shaking ever so slightly, as he held Oikawa’s pencil between his fingers. The sensation only serving to remind him of their encounter, but as far as he was concerned this pencil was his now for all Oikawa had put him through in the past five minutes alone. Inspiration now crept into his mind, as the damn pencil hovered over the page. He would find a way to save his college life. Somehow.

 

XXX

 

11:00 p.m. (Roughly five hours after Iwaizumi had been placed into his own personal Hell).

 

Snatching the notebook from his desk, Iwaizumi crossed over the carpeted floor to Oikawa’s messy bed. Glaring at the simple sheets thrown about the mattress as if they held some sort of curse. Earning him a raised brow from Oikawa, as the older boy wiggled himself into a sitting position. A grin spreading across his lips, as his mouth parted to speak, likely a remark about how he knew Iwaizumi had lied to him, but before he was granted the chance to speak, the notebook was thrust into arms. Not gently either. Fumbling with the wrinkled papers, Oikawa yanked it from his chest in order to glance over the contents of the page.

“Iwa-chan, what is this?” He asked, voice still containing a playful tone, but his lips settled into an awkward frown. Iwaizumi; however, could make out the traces of amusement in those stupidly attractive eyes that stared up at him. Eyes that made him want to steal the notebook back, and write down some rule about Oikawa not being allowed to even look at him. And he very much regretted not thinking that one up before handing the other his rather long list of rules.

“Our roommate agreement,” Iwaizumi responded firmly, dismissing a repressed laugh from the other boy that made Oikawa choke. All right, so it more like a list of things he didn’t want Oikawa doing, but calling it what it was wouldn’t do him any favors with the other boy. 

“But we don’t have to fill one out until Thursday,” Okiawa whined, those damn eyes getting larger by the second, as the single most pathetic expression Iwaizumi had seen in his entire life crawled onto Oikawa’s smooth face.

“Don’t care. Read it, and sign it.” Oikawa’s gaze tore itself away from Iwaizumi when he failed to find any sympathy in the boy’s intense stare. Reading over the contents of the notebook while resisting the urge to allow his contained laughter to burst out. He’d had his fair share of roommates, after all, no one ever stayed long with him. But this was both the single most absurd thing one of his roommates had ever done, as well as one of the most amusing. Iwaizumi was significantly more innocent than Oikawa had pegged him for.

“Iwa-chan, you’re too stiff,” Oikawa sighed, as he lifted his gaze up from the paper. “I can’t agree to all of this.” He waved his hand over the notebook for emphasis. “First off, if I want to show affection to my roommate, I should be allowed to, unless Iwa-chan is really that cruel.” He jabbed his finger at a line indicating that he wasn’t supposed to come within two feet of Iwaizumi before it slide to the line beneath it, which referred to the man that had raced out of the room shrieking only a handful of hours ago. A man that Iwaizumi had referred to as Oikawa’s boyfriend in a passage that declared Oikawa would have to call him when his ‘boyfriend’ was over. “Also, he wasn’t my boyfriend. Do you really think I would date someone so dull?” 

“What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend? Then why were you-“ Dumbfounded, he could only stare at Oikawa. Wasn’t that a thing, you know, people who were in a relationship did? Iwaizumi couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea that someone could be intimate with someone just for pleasure. Was that even a thing people did? If so, his parents, and 6th grade health teacher had most certainly lied to him. 

This time, Oikawa couldn’t repress the laugh that followed the open-mouthed expression on the other boy’s face. “To pass a bit of time, but it was boring anyway.” He waved it off faster than Iwaizumi could even grasp the very concept of the act. Was this something Oikawa did all that often? What did his parents thing of him? Was he even in a relationship? Iwaizumi tossed the thoughts aside, what did he care? He wasn’t as if he had any desire to get to know Oikawa beyond the obnoxious, strange man before him. He just had to survive through his roommate situation until he could be transferred to a different room.

Heaving aside any concerned he may or may not have felt towards Oikawa’s wellbeing, he sighed, “There is something seriously wrong with you.”

“I already knew that, Iwa-chan.” He flashed Iwaizumi a grin that made the younger shudder.

“Just sign the stupid paper,” Iwaizumi was quick to shout back.

“I’ll think about it, Iwa-chan.”

“Fine. Whatever.” With that, Iwaizumi turned swiftly. He was done with this conversation, and with trying to understand Oikawa. The man was a mystery he hardly wanted to solve, but as he made his way back towards his desk, he felt his phone vibrate.

“Thanks for your number by the way, Iwa-chan.” His face darkened, as he dug into his pocket, and yanked the cellphone from his pants. Shifting through it to see Oikawa’s oh so insightful text: _  
_

_Nice ass, Iwa-chan.  
_

Iwaizumi turned to face Oikawa. Features red with nothing but rage. “I really, really hate you.” More than he hated anyone in his entire life, yet somehow, it was midnight, classes started tomorrow, and all he could think about was his roommate's stupid face.  **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi’s life continues to be miserable, and Oikawa is still dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did National Novel Writing month, so apologizes for the delay (spent all of October plotting, and then ended up pantsing the entire thing). Thank you for the support, and for reading! 
> 
> And, Iwaizumi didn't start college right out of high school (he started after the new year). So, it's currently January. I hope that makes sense! I'll get into why he started late in the fic at some point in the future.

His hand trembled against a certain roommate’s pencil, as he heard his phone vibrate in the front pocket of his backpack for what must have been the thousandth time in the past hour. Buzzing so hard where it was stowed away that the various objects beside it began to make a rattling sound that almost could have been called a melody with how consistently it was being set off. His brows yanked together; closer and closer with each second that passed, lines forming on his face that he was certain would become permanent if this harassment continued.

He didn’t even need to see the other students to know that a handful of them had been staring at him since he had stormed into the classroom not long ago. The disgustingly early time leaving bags beneath his sharp eyes, and his hair in such a mess that not even Oikawa could have saved it. He had offered. Making the frustration on his face all the clearer.

The noises of his phone attracted the attention of morons who had too much time on their hands, at least as far as he was concerned. He hated feeling their eyes on him, and that only seemed to add fire to the rage that boiled beneath his skin. All he had wanted was a simple, normal college experience, but here was, in the very first class of his college career at stupid early o’clock in the morning, with half of the dumb class gawking at him, and the other half avoiding him entirely. The seat beside him was still empty, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for the fact just yet.

Taking in a deep breath, and gently setting the pencil down on his desk in time with the buzzing of his phone, he grabbed his backpack from beside his feet. Rummaging through its contents until he grasped the source of his fading social life, and clutched it so tightly that he felt the phone give slightly in his palm. With it firmly in his grasp, he marched out of the classroom, and with little warning, held the phone to his mouth, and yelled, “Stop calling me, dumbass!” With that, he turned the phone off, and shoved it into his pocket. Head lifting slowly with relief only to notice the crowd he had managed to collect with his not so quiet statement. Gazes peeked out from the neighboring rooms, all glued to him, and he could feel those from his own class glaring at his back. A light color formed against his stern features, and he coughed into his hand, awkwardly attempting to dismiss them.

Turning briskly, he had every intention of retreating when he felt a powerful hand smack against his back. A familiar laugh consumed the entire hall, and his face distorted into a frown that could have ripped the sun right out of the sky. He knew that horrid, grunting laugh, as well as the snickering that sounded from his other side. But for some ungodly reason he felt the need to turn around anyway, glaring at the taller boy that had smacked him, and the shorter one at his side. The same pair that had given him the oh so fantastic idea of knocking on Oikawa’s door the other day. “What the hell do you two want?” He nearly snapped the words in his anger, but somehow found a way to keep himself from tearing their stupid grins right off of their stupid faces. They had earned their place on the growing list of people he had no desire to be near.

“Just wondering how it’s going.” The taller man slipped out between his laughs. He was well-built, and his head was shaved, but Iwaizumi found no part of him to be intimidating.

“Sounds like it’s working out great,” The shorter male chimed in, wrapping his arms around his gut, as if Iwaizumi’s misery was somehow the funniest thing in the world to him. These people seriously needed to get a life, or have theirs ended. He was tempted to volunteer if the opportunity ever arose.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” The moment he had addressed them, he regretted it. A conversation was the last thing he wanted to start with these people.

“You got a problem?” The taller one’s expression darkened slightly, and he took a step towards Iwaizumi, who didn’t back down. He was, at the very least, taller than him; even if this guy looked like something someone had just dragged into the school from the street one day. Then again, with the way he looked this morning, he couldn't say there was much difference between himself and the other boy. 

Iwaizumi flinched when someone clapped their hands beside him, attention only yanking away from the pair when their gazes had shifted as well. “That’s enough, Tanaka, Noya.” His voice wasn’t terribly stern, and he was small when compared to Iwaizumi, and the other boy, but, with a snort, Tanaka walked away, the shorter of the duo following after him. 

“He’s not worth my time anyway.” Iwaizumi could hear Tanaka say when they walked away, but the comment wasn’t enough to provoke him into pursuing the strangers.

“Sorry about them, they can get carried away.” Iwaizumi turned back to the other boy at the sound of his voice. “I heard that their neighbor got a new roommate, but it seems I was too late to warn you about them.” _Neighbor. New roommate._ It took Iwaizumi only a few agonizingly long seconds to connect those words. His lips rolled into a frown, and he could feel his jaw twitch. Was this some sort of sick joke? Was his roommate not the worst possible thing that could happen, so they decided to shove Tweedledum and Tweedledee into the room beside him? Hadn’t he suffered enough already? Apparently not. The other boy must have noticed his distress, and he heard a light chuckle. One graceful enough that he found he couldn’t get as angry about it as he would have liked. “They’re not bad people, though, I promise.” The boy laughed lightly at his own comment.

He offered the still very much enraged Iwaizumi a gentle smile that did little to quell the boy’s feelings. Admittedly, though, those feelings were still fixed on a certain roommate. Seemingly understanding that Iwaizumi had little desire to carry on a conversation, the gray-haired man dismissed himself with a, “It was nice meeting you,” and took his leave with poor Iwaizumi in greater distress than he had been moments ago. A million things on his mind, he sulked back into the classroom. Cursing his terrible luck, and heavily considering transferring to an entirely different school so he would have never to see _anyone’s_ face again. He flopped down into his seat to endure the lecture he hoped would be easier to cope with than the news that had just been dumped upon him.

By the time he heard the shuffling of feet, Iwaizumi was completely drained, and in a world of his own. Paying little attention to what his professor had been saying throughout the entire time he had been in the class, as the man had gone over the syllabus at least half a dozen times for the students, who, much like himself, weren’t paying attention. Had it been an actual lecture, he would have paid attention, at least that was he had convinced himself of as he slipped out of his seat. Grabbing his backpack from the floor, and slinging it over one of his broad shoulders. The last to leave, he glared down the hallway before existing the room, as if to make sure none of the numerous annoyances he had crossed since arriving yesterday were lingering around, just waiting to make his life more miserable than it already was.

Dragging himself out of the building, the chilled air rattled his body, and ate away at his jacket. Drying out his exposed hands, and stealing the air straight out of his lungs. White powder ghosted over the ground, slowly starting to cling to his clothes, and face as he stood just outside of the door. The cold was a far cry from the heated classroom he had been in moments ago, and he instantly regretted leaving its comfort. His lips pulling together into a thin frown, he picked up his pace. Shoes slipping along the hard, frozen ground, as he made a b-line for the dorm, which thankfully, wasn’t terribly far from the building his class had been held in.

Slipping inside the warmth of the dorm, he let out a sharp breath that he had been holding. Sliding his damp shoes along the rug nestled in front of the doors. The thought just now occurring to him that he might have to deal with Oikawa, and he wanted to retreat back outside. Running a hand through his messy, and now wet, hair, the wind and snow having not done him any favors, he curled his lips up, as if to mentally prepare himself for the possibility that the moron would attempt to hold a conversation with him. Probably a stupid one.

Walking towards the hall that contained the rooms on the first floor, he was forced to pass the common area not far from it. His attention yanked towards it when he spotted familiar smooth, brown hair out of the corner of his eyes through the window that parted the room from the hall. Relief washing over him at the sight of Oikawa seated in one of the couches in the other room, but his feelings were short-lived. Behind him a familiar figure loomed over the chair. _The asshole from yesterday._ Iwaizumi’s frown deepened. If he thought he was bringing the older man back to the dorm, he would personally lock both of them out. But there was something about Oikawa that seemed off. He looked disinterested, and was seemingly ignoring the man entirely, pushing him away when he was grabbed, but only until the man’s hands slid around his neck. Fingers touching Oikawa’s chest, and rubbing his skin, but it didn’t earn him a reaction. From where Iwaizumi stood, he couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but he also didn’t see Oikawa’s lips moving to form words either. Instead they were shut firmly, and he felt distant to Iwaizumi.

Dropping his backpack on the ground, Iwaizumi marched over to the door, flinging it open with strength he had forgotten he possessed. Its metal frame slammed against the wall, and startled the stranger. Making him leap up in a panic when Iwaizumi entered. Oikawa, on the other hand, only slowly moved his gaze to Iwaizumi. 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice was stern, and he walked up to the older man with an intensity that quickly made him back off. “What’re you doing?” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a threat, to both Oikawa, and the cowering man. One look from Iwaizumi was enough to send the man straight out of the room without a moment’s hesitation; racing out so fast that Iwaizumi was almost concerned for his wellbeing. _Almost._

“Why didn’t you do something?” Iwaizumi snapped the moment the man had left the room, his anger now fixed on Oikawa. His hands balled into fists so tight that the muscles within his arms trembled from the force. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry, and if he tried to explain it now, he would have been at a loss for words. But that didn’t change how his forehead creased, and how the muscles in his legs contracted tightly, or how his lips twitched as he glared down at the older boy. His heart still racing, and the fight he had built up for the stranger had yet to drain from his body.

An auburn brow was raised at him, as Oikawa met his gaze. “Oh, Iwa-chan, how was class?” As if nothing had happened at all, the sophomore addressed Iwaizumi with his usual carefree, and playful tone. Iwaizumi could feel something within him snap. His short nails digging so deep into his hot palms that he swore he felt them rip through his skin.

“Don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you stop him?” He was physically shaking. Enough that Oikawa could tell, but he remained seated, shrugging.

“Why should I have?” His gaze met Iwaizumi’s, and he didn’t appear as if he planned to back down, despite how imposing Iwaizumi looked from his current position.

“What the hell do you mean? Don’t you care?” His jaw locked, and he bit down so hard he could feel the pressure through his entire mouth. Oikawa clearly had wanted nothing to do with that man, but he hadn’t bothered to make an effort to get rid of him. If he didn’t want that man around him, why didn’t he just say something? Or do something? The thoughts were barely able to stay afloat in Iwaizumi’s ragging mind. 

“Of course not, Iwa-chan.” That was it. Whatever had been holding Iwaizumi back, shattered. He grabbed Oikawa’s shirt, and yanked him from his seat. Fingers twisting into the cloth, and pressing hard against the older boy’s chest. Teeth gritting, as his face creased. Supporting almost the entirety of Oikawa’s weight with his shaking arms. Body hot with anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He was shouting now, but even then, Oikawa didn’t budge. He could feel Iwaizumi’s breath flaring against his cheeks, and the warmth of his hands against his skin.

“Do you even really care?” Oikawa’s voice took on a darker tone that hardly fit the cheerful features Iwaizumi was used to seeing.

He wanted to scream, _No, I don’t,_ but he bit down hard on his tongue. Pain surging through his throat. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be so angry right now. His fists tightened around the fabric of Oikawa’s shirt, and his knuckles pressed into the older boy’s collarbones. Feeling the hard surface beneath his warm skin that somehow felt cold to the touch. His own fingers on fire in comparison. Oikawa’s expression was different. It was almost pitiful. It made his heart lurch, and his lips quiver. For some reason, he felt more protective of the idiot than he really needed to be.

Hating the thoughts running through his mind, he shoved Oikawa away from him. Watching as the man stumbled back into the couch, catching himself on the arm to stop himself from falling over. 

“Who knows,” Iwaizumi spat, and he turned around, storming out of the room.

 

XXX

 

Rigid fingers pressed hard into the smooth surface of the volleyball, threatening to crush the object pushing against his palms. Slick with sweat, and warm from the various emotions overflowing in his brain, all of which managed to only display themselves as anger upon Iwaizumi’s stern face, as if that was the only expression he was even capable of making at this moment in time. Fingertips gripping the volleyball between them with a familiar ease, but he didn’t move from where he was rooted in the center of the court. Glaring intently at the ball lodged between his fingers, as if he was envisioning Oikawa’s face upon its thick surface, and was debating if he wanted to crush it, or leave it be.

Flickering lights hung overhead, illuminating the worn gymnasium, and the cart of balls situated beside Iwaizumi. Empty aside from his lone figure. His only company the swaying of the slightly parted door at the other end of the court. Allowing a cool breeze to flutter into the otherwise stuffy room. It was two in the morning, the last time he had checked his phone, but it had since been discarded along with his bag, at the edge of the court, and he couldn’t have been bothered to walk over to it. He hadn’t gone back to the room since his argument with Oikawa, and he was seriously debating never returning. It hadn’t been entirely Oikawa’s fault. He was to blame, too, he was well aware of that fact, and it was what was stopping him from dragging himself back to the dorm. He was still somehow angry, but mostly just at himself now. Unable to grasp what had made him become so frustrated with the older boy in the first place. If he wanted to run his life into the ground, who was he to stop him?

His thoughts were snatched away from him when the gym’s door creaked open, and he went rigid. Ripping his gaze away from the ball to glare at the poor person who had the audacity to disturb him. But his expression softened; well, as much as he was capable of doing, when he spotted a head of gray hair, and a calm smile. “I didn’t know you played.” His smooth voice carried out through the quiet space, and his shoes squeaked, as he made his way towards Iwaizumi.

“Yeah,” It was all he could manage to force out through clenched teeth. His cold attitude seemingly had little impact on the older boy, as it didn’t appear to deter him from closing in on his target.

“I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself yet. I’m Koushi Sugawara.”

“Yeah.” How incredibly inspiring.

“Do you want me to toss for you? I used to play when I was high school. I wasn’t good enough to make the team here, but I can still give you a hand.” He extended his hands, carefully prying the ball from Iwaizumi, and grabbing the cart, putting a bit of distance between himself and the other boy without waiting for a reply.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi breathed, earning him a smile that could have easily painted Sugawara as some sort of angel, especially when one compared him to Iwaizumi. His own grim expression resembling some sort of demon.  

Taking the ball he had stolen from the other boy, Sugawara set it up with practiced ease, and Iwaizumi’s palm hit it hard. Hard enough that he could feel his skin vibrate, as the impact rattled through his entire arm. The sound of it slamming into the court on the other side echoed through the gym, bouncing off of the high walls.

“Are you on the team?” Sugawara asked casually, tossing him another ball that he hit with the same amount of aggression as the first.

“No.” He didn’t even bother to look at the other boy.

“You should try out. This school’s team is pretty good.” He watched Iwaizumi closely, as if studying him. 

“I decided to stop playing after high school.” Sugawara frowned briefly at the words, but he didn’t allow that expression to remain on his features for too long.

“Well, keep it in mind.” From where he stood, Iwaizumi seemed truly intimidating, and powerful. The strength in his legs that lifted him from the ground, and the power of his thick arms that slammed the ball down with such precision that it was almost terrifying. His body had been built for the sport. He must have played for some time. He hit the tosses so very easily, and landed with the same familiarity each and every time. As if the movements had been ingrained into his muscles. 

“You should give him a chance.” The words caught Iwaizumi off guard, and he shot the other boy a look that would have unnerved most others. “Oikawa, I mean, you should give him a chance. Get to know him.”

“He’s a dumbass.” He smacked the ball down with such force that when he landed, he could feel the floor trembling from the hit’s impact. Sugawara, on the other hand, almost appeared as if he was suppressing a laugh.

“He might not be as terrible as you think,” Sugawara began, but Iwaizumi’s attention had already returned to smacking the ball. “We’re in the same year. We’ve had a few classes together.”

“Does he even show up?” Why was he even asking? Did he care? No, or at least that was he was still telling himself.

“Sometimes.” His fingers hesitated on the next ball. “Please give him a chance. I don’t know him well, but,” He paused, as if hiding something from the other boy. “He’s a good person.”

Iwaizumi fell silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support, and for reading! It means a lot to me!

Thick hands ran through dark hair. Greasy with the soap that had collected upon his fingertips, and the sweat that still clung to his scalp despite the sensation of hot water running over his head. Mixing with the stench, and dampness that had already attached itself to his body from his late night practice session. Creating a strange scent that collided with the fumes from his soap that desperately attempted to make him suitable to be in the company of another human being. His messy hair tangled in his fingers, as they ran through it a million times, trying to wash out the feeling of lingering guilt, and anxiety that had weaved itself into his body. Still a mess from when he had rolled out of bed that morning, it was finally starting to look just ever so slightly presentable. Combing out into a somehow controlled disorder. Not that he concerned himself much with his hair, but each stroke his fingers made through its soft surface eased the thoughts flaring up in his mind.

And no matter how many times he repeated the words, _It’s four in the fucking morning just go to sleep already_ , he didn’t feel like yanking himself away from the comfort the hot water provided him. Running down his hands to trace along the creases in his arms, pushing away the sweat that had collected upon his skin, and heating his chilled body. Over the various scars that had been placed upon him. Most gathered from the days he had actually played volleyball on a team, and of those, the majority were from his own teammates. Though the memories that they carried were most often fond ones, they were distant. A part of him couldn’t even place where they all had come from anymore, despite having been able to vividly recall each event like the back of his hand only a few months ago.

 His legs already felt stiff, and sore. In the same time that those memories had begun to fade, their place within his body had as well. His muscles had recalled every motion like it was nothing, but now they ached from the time that had collected where his feet hadn’t slid across the familiar surface of a gym. His palms stung slightly, and he could still feel the impact from the ball upon them, spreading out into both of his arms. As if the years he had spent pursuing the sport had been stripped down to nothing in the few short months that had passed without it.

 His forehead creased, and he rolled his shoulders back. Extending his tingling arms above his head, and allowing the numbing warmth of the water to pull through his entire body while his muscles protested the action. Burning, and sore, but the pain was dulled by his own thoughts. Gaze fixed upon the damp walls of the shower. Droplets of water running down it that managed to mix together in some sort of sick image that his mind could only piece together as that moron’s smooth face. Painting out the almost sorrowful expression he had been given that was so unlike everything Iwaizumi had seen before upon the water-drawn image of him.

 He frowned. Oikawa always seemed to be beaming, as if he was the sun, and would consume Iwaizumi if he stepped too close. In the short time he had been stuck with the older boy; that was the opinion he had constructed. He didn’t think highly of him, despite comparing him to the sun. Oikawa was like every kid he had attended high school with that had given up on their out of control life. It was their own fault for letting things get so bad. Oikawa was a clown. He had too much time on his hands. He was wasting all of it.

 Iwaizumi’s hand reached out in frustration, and swiped his palm across the image. _You don’t care,_ he would tell himself again, thinking it so many times that had lost track of how often it had run through his mind since he had argued with Oikawa that morning. He was a stranger he had known for only a few days; of course he didn’t care what happened to someone like Oikawa. Yet, the images of this morning still flashed through his mind. Over and over again until he could have recited it as if it had been a movie he had seen a million times before. His beautiful, brown eyes filled with something Iwaizumi couldn’t understand. Emotions spread upon his lifeless face that was still somehow completely enchanting.

But it was four in the morning, and everything on his mind revolved around Oikawa.

_Fuck it all, you do care._ He grabbed the faucet, slamming the water off. Its warmth slowly vanishing, and was quickly replaced by the cold that had been waiting to slip in. Drenched, he kicked open the shower door to grab his towel. Shoving his face against its soft surface to release a hot breath into it, as if he was ready to scream at nothing at all. Lifting it from his face after a few seconds of its blissful embrace, he rubbed the towel through his dripping hair. Swiftly dressing, only half dry, and grabbing his belongings from the tile floor, he stormed out of the bathroom. Barely able to get his key out, as he reached the room, and swiping it with a bit too much urgency for the time it was.

Flinging open the door, he heard a muffled yelp in the dark room, as Oikawa drew back in his bed. Laptop slamming shut, as he stared at Iwaizumi, his body now tucked away in the darkness of the room. Iwaizumi’s firm features making him look completely enraged, as he tossed everything he had been carrying onto the floor into one giant heap. And greeted Oikawa with a stern, “Hey,” that sounded more like a threat than the start of an actual conversation.

“Y-You’re not still mad are you, Iwa-chan?” He could barely make out Iwaizumi’s face from where he was seated upon his bed. The only light in the room was provided the window. The curtains drawn back to allow a thin veil of light into the room. It fell upon Oikawa’s bed, but shadowed Iwaizumi from where he stood at the door. Balling his hands into fists, Iwaizumi walked over to Oikawa’s bed. Bare feet scrapping across the carpet.

“Iwa-chan, let’s try to be rational. It’s not like I was planning on bringing him back here.” Oikawa shoved himself back up against his pillows, back pressing against their meager strength, as he desperately tried to maintain the distance that Iwaizumi was swiftly closing between them. And before he could do anything about, Iwaizumi was at his bed, looming over him with a look that Oikawa could only describe as menacing. Iwaizumi’s hand reached for him. Grabbing his loose shirt, but Oikawa didn’t feel the same pressure that had run through his body when Iwaizumi had been angry with him before. Iwaizumi’s eyes locked so intently at him, that he wasn’t entirely sure Iwaizumi was even aware of the fact that he staring at his face. As if studying him, but the hand on his shirt was warm, and it wasn’t a position Oikawa felt terribly threatened in.

“Iwa-chan,” He chimed when he wasn’t getting an answer. His eyes graced over Iwaizumi’s face, still partially obscured by the shadows. He could see the younger boy’s lips purse, and his eyes waver. His hold wasn’t strong, and if Oikawa truly felt like it, he could have easily pushed him away, but he didn’t. Iwaizumi was hesitating, his head lowered, and the strength that always seemed to perpetuate from him was now severely lacking. Oikawa couldn’t even begin to grasp at what Iwaizumi was trying to accomplish, and all he could manage were small, but hardly convincing protests.

“Iwa-chan.” He drawled again, drawing his hand up to rest it upon Iwaizumi’s wrist. This time Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up, and Oikawa startled a bit. Iwaizumi had always had an insanity about him that was both intimidating, and also captivating, and Oikawa hated to admit why he enjoyed it.

As if suddenly aware of the fact that he was clutching Oikawa’s shirt, Iwaizumi tore his hand away, but Oikawa caught it, holding onto it as tightly as he could, not allowing Iwaizumi the chance to run away from what he had started. His fingers flexed uncomfortably against the older boy’s cold palm, and he pulled halfheartedly away, but it wasn’t enough to make Oikawa let go. 

“Uh, look,” Iwaizumi began. Voice far softer compared to the typical tone Oikawa had grown used to hearing. In other words, he wasn’t actually yelling at the older boy for a change of pace, and that was almost too shocking for poor Oikawa, who could only stare blankly at him, as Iwaizumi lowered his head, and allowed the words, “I’m sorry” to leave his mouth. 

Silence fell around them, and Oikawa could feel his mouth slip open. Eyes wide, as if he was witnessing the end of the world.

“What?” Iwaizumi shot at him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the way Oikawa was staring so fixedly at him.

“Sorry for what?” Iwaizumi tugged harder with his hand this time, but still Oikawa didn’t let go. Iwaizumi’s arms fell to his side. He hated how slick Oikawa’s lips looked in the light that streamed down, seemingly only on the older boy. He hated the sound of his sweet voice against his ears. But he hated the heat that streamed from his own hand against Oikawa more than either of those.

What was he sorry for? To be honest, there were a thousand different things he was apologizing for, but all them seemed to leave him the moment he had been asked that question. He didn’t regret yelling at Oikawa, and on the extensive list of things he needed to apologize for, that wasn’t on there.

More than anything, he simply felt guilty for assuming Oikawa was everything he appeared to be at face value. That he had jumped the gun so badly he could feel the trigger still lodged in his throat. He was sorry for getting so frustrated, and angry with a person he had barely been willing to give the time of day to. A person he had decided he hated from the moment he had stepped foot in the dorm. 

He relaxed slightly, easing himself onto to Oikawa’s bed. It was four in the morning, and here he was, accepting the fact that he cared, and didn’t exactly know how to express it.

“Iwa-chan-“ Oikawa whined, by now the nickname rolled off of his tongue so naturally that Iwaizumi had become accustomed to it, but he would always hate the way in which it was spoken. It wasn’t an insult, but he always felt that Oikawa was never genuine with him. That there was something beyond the idiotic persona he presented himself as. As if he was trying devalue, and demean himself to the point where everything he said felt like some cryptic lie that even Oikawa himself believed from having spewed it so many times. Where it came down to the fact that nothing anyone could claim, or say could be worse than anything he’d ever said or thought about himself, or even actually done.

Iwaizumi hated it. “Shut up.” He wasn’t going to pretend he knew Oikawa, or even claim to understand the other’s bizarre way of thinking, but watching him was so very frustrating that Iwaizumi couldn’t even begin to imagine how Oikawa could live in such a way. He’d noticed it since the first day they had met. Something was always off. Everything was always fake. But he didn’t want to get involved. He was too focused on himself to notice, like he did now, that Oikawa was somehow suffering beneath everything. Even in the shadows of the room, he could notice the exhaustion that played on his features in the light that bounced off his pretty face. The way his body slumped against his pillows, and even how he clutched his worn hand. It was easy to get caught up in the storm he created, but, then again, Iwaizumi had always been agonizingly stubborn. He wasn’t going to change that side of himself now.

How did people not notice? Or did they not really care? Like himself, he assumed everyone was so wrapped up in their own self that it wasn’t worth it to reach out to a stranger. Or maybe Oikawa was just so far into his stupid lie that he was a lost cause. Iwaizumi felt guilty. Guilty for being so quick to just throw him aside, and lament on his own predicament. Guilty for judging him too quickly. Guilty for not even trying to understand. He had always been that way. It was why he had never had a lot of friends.

“You’re pissing me off,” He breathed, and Oikawa’s mouth fell open to interject. “How do you expect people to understand what’s going on in your head if you just lie all of the time?” He mumbled, anger seeping into his voice.

“Iwa-chan, I’m the most honest-“

“Bullshit,” Iwaizumi spat. Loud tone carrying through the room, as Oikawa scooted back from him slightly. Watching the flicker of rage that passed over Iwaizumi’s features, a frown crossed over his sweet lips. His charming eyes lowering to the bed to stare at the crinkled sheets. His free hand reached out, grasping the messy blanket within his palm, and crushing the fabric against his fingers. The soft texture rubbing against his skin. Forehead moving onto his knees, as if he could still hear Iwaizumi’s voice rattling against his ears, he rubbed his head against the bone, pressing so hard against it that Iwaizumi was mildly concerned it would leave an imprint.

_Bullshit._ The word was still circling through his mind. He drew his legs close to his chest, his hold tightened on Iwaizumi’s hand, almost painfully so. Lips pursing together, as if for once he didn’t have comeback to dismiss Iwaizumi’s words. _Who gave him the right?_

Iwaizumi felt relieved when Oikawa’s soft voice didn’t interject, but he was hesitant. Oikawa’s submission was unlike him, and he wasn’t sure if he was really winning this argument anymore. Iwaizumi leaned back, head gently smacking against the wall beside the older boy’s bed. “I don’t expect anything to change, but at least want to try to get to know you. We’re stuck here together anyway.”

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the sheet. His teeth gritting. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want Iwaizumi here. Or at least, on his bed, because he didn’t belong there. “You’re not going to like me,” He spoke, lifting his head from his legs to look at Iwaizumi. Dark gaze meeting Iwaizumi’s relaxed one, as if to challenge him. 

“Yeah? I’d rather decide that on my own.”

_Bullshit,_ was the word that still lingered in Oikawa’s mind. He hated the way it sounded in his head. He hated feeling Iwaizumi’s warmth beside him, the dampness of his hand, and hearing the sound of his breathing. He hated the other sitting this close to him. He hated hearing Iwaizumi challenge him. And he wasn’t quite sure why.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa watches Iwaizumi play volleyball for the first time.

Whatever had come out of his mouth at four in the morning, because he, of course couldn’t actually remember, had rendered Iwaizumi’s life far more miserable than it had been before. Oikawa had been annoying before, yes, to the point where Iwaizumi was struck with the urge to bash his head in nearly every time he spotted the older boy, but now the sophomore had managed to reach a new low that Iwaizumi hadn’t even dreamed him capable of. In the past few days of trying to get to know his roommate, he had learned only one thing: Never underestimate Tooru Oikawa.

And it was this newfound knowledge that kept the creases on his forehead, and nailed his lips into a frown at nearly every waking, or otherwise, hour of the day. And it was the thought that kept the fork clutched so firmly in his hand that it was starting to leave indents in his figures where the plastic grooves were. Making his head throb with Oikawa’s near constant voice. What was he even saying? Hell if Iwaizumi knew. Probably something stupid. He had discovered that the older boy had a horrific habit of going off on random tangents about god even knows what. He had hoped after their little confrontation Oikawa wouldn’t act so terrifically airheaded and jolly all of the damn time. But he had been wrong. Oh so very wrong. It was like he had somehow encouraged Oikawa to be a bigger pain in the ass than he already had been.

He felt something tap his shoulder, snapping him back to reality just in time to hear, “Iwa-chan, are you even listening?” Iwaizumi’s eyes thinned, and he glared at Oikawa. Almost all of the food on Iwaizumi’s plate had gone untouched, and the same could be said for his roommate, but in Iwaizumi’s case, it was due to the fact that he was still trying to grasp how he had even gotten himself into this situation in the first place. 

“No,” He responded shortly. Stabbing the awkward collection of riff raff Oikawa had piled onto his plate for him, and shoving it into his mouth. Even over Oikawa’s whining, he could hear the whispers from the students that passed their table. Their obnoxious snickering, and the not so hushed whispers they were weaving. All he had going for him in his dying social life was the fact that the campus was large, and he was praying Oikawa wasn’t nearly as famous as all of the onlookers would make him believe.

“You’re so mean, Iwa-chan.” All right, so he didn’t so much mind _Iwa-chan_ when no one was around, but boy did it sting when there were a bunch of strangers gawking at them, and he could hear a few laugh whenever Oikawa’s ‘affectionate’, as he dubbed it, nickname rolled off his annoyingly smooth tongue. He could kiss any shot he had at a normal, simple college life goodbye.

“Good.” He shoved another fork-load of food into his mouth. Was there a reason Oikawa had now made it a habit to follow him to dinner? Iwaizumi was convinced he was trying to get revenge by hanging around him as much as physically possible, because he didn’t believe Oikawa to be the clingy type.

The trademark pout that crept across the older boy’s features at his word had lost any charm it might have held days ago, and now was just simply another one of Oikawa’s dumb habits. Iwaizumi had hoped to get to know him slowly, not in a sudden burst of enthusiasm that could have stripped the sails right off the greatest ship. Even so, he still knew painfully little about Oikawa that Oikawa didn’t want to tell him directly. Like, for example, about his sex life, which Oikawa was far too willing to share. In detail Iwaizumi didn’t exactly need, or want. But even though he was sharing random tidbits about himself he was still extremely selective with what he told him, and Iwaizumi wasn’t enough of a fool to not notice he was still being lied to. Just not as directly this time around. He was going to strangle Oikawa before the two week room freeze had ended, even if he was determined to last the semester just so he could shove it in Oikawa’s annoying face, and retain some ounce of his pride that hadn’t been stolen from him quite yet. 

He could hear someone walking up to the table. Their steps meshing with the sound of Oikawa’s voice, of which Iwaizumi had become accustomed to tuning out. Praying that one of their onlookers hadn’t suddenly gained the courage to harass them directly, he piled another scoop of food into his mouth in hopes that ignoring them would make them go away.

But instead of the sweet sound of feet walking away, he heard a soft voice call out to him.” Iwaizumi.” The voice was familiar to him, but he also dreading acknowledging their existence, as it would also mean he was admitting to actually sitting in the middle of the cafeteria with Oikawa. 

Working up the willingness to feel his pride slip away from he, he peeled his focus from his food, half of which he still didn’t even know what it was, to look up at the person. Meeting Sugawara’s light smile with a rather pitiful one. Lips drawing back unnaturally, and he heard Oikawa burst out beside him. Body rattling with how hard he was laughing, as Iwaizumi felt a heat rise up to the very tips of his ears.

“Iwa-chan, that’s not how you smile.” He extended his hands, reaching for Iwaizumi mouth his index fingers. But before he could even ghost the tips of his fingers against the younger’s face, Iwaizumi smacked his hand away.

“Shut up.” He snapped. Oikawa pressed his lips together, wrapping his hands around his gut, as he tried to repress the laughter that still escaped his mouth in snorts that were hardly fitting for that pretty face of his. It made Iwaizumi want to punch him. And he might have, if Sugawara hadn’t been staring at them.

“This is perfect timing,” Sugawara chimed, completely dismissing Oikawa, and mercifully not commenting on Iwaizumi’s smile. “We need another person for our match today. One of my friends is sick. Would you want to play with us tonight?”

And suddenly Oikawa’s disgusting snorting ceased. So abruptly that Iwaizumi glanced over to him. The expression upon his face was difficult to read, and he didn’t know what to make of it, but Sugawara didn’t look at him. Instead his gaze was focused downwards, and he couldn’t hold the harsh glare on Oikawa’s face. An expression not a far cry from the one Iwaizumi had seen a handful of times before upon his features. Anger, sorrow, pity, grief, he could see them all painted over Oikawa’s normally cheerful face. They weren’t terribly apparent, and easy to overlook, but for whatever reason, Iwaizumi found them easy to spot.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said. At the sound of his voice, Oikawa’s tension seemed to drain from his entire body. That fake smile returning to his features, and his radiant nature drowning out the moment of darkness that passed over him. Easily turning to Iwaizumi. Without warning, he extended a hand, smacking Iwaizumi hard on the back with his palm.

“You should go, you could use the exercise,” He teased, “Maybe it’ll help with your face.” Iwaizumi grabbed his retreating hand, nearly crushing it within his fist, as he forced it away from his back with a protest of pained hissing from Oikawa.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He tightened his hold on Oikawa’s hand, and the older boy contorted his wrist in an attempt to wiggle out of Iwaizumi’s hold, whimpering, as he allowed that stupid pout to cross over his features.

“This is abuse, Iwa-chan.”

“You’re abusive.” He let go of Oikawa’s hand, who was quick to yank it back towards his chest. Rubbing his fingers to ease some of the soreness that was still present. His attention returned to poor Sugawara, whose smile had only increased while watching them bicker, and Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Maybe he wasn’t exactly the angle Iwaizumi had originally painted him as.

“You’ll play, right?” And as if to confirm Iwaizumi’s growing suspicion, he spoke those words with ease, effectively trapping Iwaizumi, because who could really say no when he looked at someone with such hope in his eyes?

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Wonderful. Meet us in the gym at eight.” With that simple phrase, Sugawara vanished into the crowd, making sure not to give Iwaizumi a chance to back out.

“You play volleyball, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa leaned over the table, shoving his face as close to Iwaizumi’s as the other would allow him to before thrusting his palm into Oikawa’s face, and pushing him back.

“I used to. I stopped after high school.” He retreated his hand in order to finish off the last of his food, thankful for the fact that it wasn’t as terrible as it could have been. He caught himself shifting his attention to the plate in front of Oikawa, which was still entirely untouched. Now that he actually thought about it, the older boy was on the thinner side, but he still had a bit of muscle to him. Not anything drastic, but cause enough for mild concern to place itself into Iwaizumi’s mind.

“I want to watch you play.” His enthusiasm didn’t exactly put Iwaizumi at ease.

“Whatever.” The smile that crept across Oikawa’s lips had him instantly regret everything he had ever done in his entire life, but he wasn’t backing down now.

“Are you gonna eat anything?” Iwaizumi finally asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat something, or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“So mean,” Oikawa whined, but he picked up his fork, and stabbed at his tray. Shoving a small bit of food into his mouth under Iwaizumi’s terribly intimidating gaze. It was the first time Iwaizumi could recall seeing Oikawa eat anything.

 

XXX

 

A chill ran down Oikawa's spine, as he skipped forward. Nearly colliding with Iwaizumi, as he leaned down, bumping his shoulder against the other boy’s. “It’s so cold, Iwa-chan, we should-“

“Not a chance.” He shoved Oikawa way, storming towards the gym as quickly as he could manage with the thick layer of snow that bogged him down. Putting as much distance between himself, and his persistent roommate who had made him at least ten minutes late by complaining about his disorderly hair. Thankfully, Oikawa couldn’t keep up with him, struggling through the piles of snow that hadn’t been cleared away yet, as he trailed behind Iwaizumi.

The gym , and Iwaizumi, felt like it was miles away now, but Oikawa could so vividly recall walking down this path a thousand times a day not too long ago. While the campus had two gymnasiums, the newer one, the one where actual games were played, and the school’s team practiced was in far better shape than the old one everyone else used. Which, unlike the better one, was always propped open with a wedge shoved between the heavy door, and the wall. Meaning that even those on a team used the old gym to practice during the off hours of the day. It made the building drafty, and Oikawa was certain that the heating in the old building didn’t even work anymore.

“Hurry up.” He picked up his pace at the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice, trudging through the snow until he reached the door where the younger boy was standing, holding it open for him.

“You’re such a gentleman, Iwa-chan.” He slipped through the door before the other let it slam against the wedge.

“Do you wanna die?” Iwaizumi snorted, whirling around on Oikawa, but he wasn’t given the chance to make true to his words. A hand grabbed his shoulder, and yanked him onto the court before he even had the chance to register what was happening.

“Hurry, we’re starting,” Sugawara urged, pushing Iwaizumi into his position without introducing him to the rest of the people in the gym. All of whom were staring at him rather impatiently. 

“Uh, right.”

“Good luck,” Oikawa called slipping to the side of the court, and leaning against the far wall to lessen the chance of getting hit by a stray ball or two. He could recognize a handful of the people on the court, but not one looked his way, aside from Sugawara, whose gaze he would much prefer not to meet. But his own focus was fixed on Iwaizumi. The intensity he typically held seemed to radiate off of him in a different manner, and he had adjusted to being dragged onto the court in a matter of seconds; as if being there was natural to him.

Oikawa felt his lips tug into a frown when they began. Watching as they glided along on the slick surface of the floor. The sound of their bodies moving, as they all reacted so naturally to the game. And even then, he still couldn’t pull his eyes off of Iwaizumi. His muscles tensed, and his entire body moved like a canon, with such force that he looked as if he held the power to blast down anyone in his way. Oikawa could see his legs contract when he jumped, and he could hear the impact the ball made when it slammed against the floor on the other side of the net. His body recovering so easily, as he slid back into place; ready to take off again. His chest slowly rising with each breath he took. Sweat beading down his arms, and neck, but in the poorly lit room, he looked as if he was glowing. His movements precise, and trained, as if he had beaten them into his body through years of dedication, and, as a result, everything he did looked so very restricted. As if he never wasted any time in thinking about what he was doing; that his body simply just knew how to react.

Oikawa swallowed thickly. Iwaizumi was stunning. A lump had formed in his throat, and had lodged itself there so firmly that he couldn’t even budge it. Iwaizumi was different when he stood beneath that swaying light, but he was still somehow the same person. His anger had twisted into raw power, and his intensity into skill that allowed him to mesh easily with the setter he had only played with once before. He didn’t look awkward, and out of place on the court. In fact, it was the most relaxed Oikawa had ever seen the other boy. And in some odd, dark place in the back of his mind Oikawa knew he looked beautiful when he stood there. Surrounded by people who could keep up with him; people who could make him shine. Shine so brightly that he was a fire. One that burned a thousand times brighter, and hotter than anything Oikawa could have ever have hoped to achieve. He was all consuming, and so very brilliant.

And somehow, in the back of his mind, and in his horridly aching heart, he knew exactly why he hated the way Iwaizumi stood there. Hated the way he burned, and the way he laughed with everyone. Hated the fact that he wasn't the one out there making Iwaizumi shine. But most of all, hating the fact that he knew he couldn't. It made his chest tighten so much that he couldn’t even breathe. 

_Moron._ He grit his teeth. Hands balling into fists, as he tore himself away from the wall, and ran out of the gym.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support, and for reading! It means a lot to me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is awkward, and difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support, and for reading. I read all of your comments, even if I don't respond, and they really mean a lot to me, as does the fact that you're taking time out of your day to read this.

 Pulling his legs to his chest, he buried his head into his knees. He shouldn’t have gone. No, he should have never given Iwaizumi a chance. But now he was head over heels. Consumed by thoughts, and emotions that hadn’t managed to hold him hostage in more years than he could count. Completely captivated by every movement he made, and every word that he spoke like some lovesick teenager. In so deep that he was certain he would never escape from the overwhelming wave of desire, and regret. 

A thousand thoughts must have flown through his mind on that bed; each one revolving around Iwaizumi, and made all the more vivid by the musty scent that clung to the sheets. His fingers twisted in his roommate’s blanket, scrunching the fabric up against his palms. Never had he felt so desperate to just be around someone before in his life. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he pried his fingers from the sheets to run his slippery hands through his smooth hair. Half tempted to pull every last strand of it out. If only the pain would make every urge that ran through his body vanish right then and there. Yet, even that wouldn’t manage to take his mind off of Iwaizumi.

When was the last time he had cared about another person so much? He couldn’t even remember if there had been another time before now. And that only added to the guilt that kept him glued in place. _Of all people, why did it have to be Iwaizumi?_ A part of him was painfully aware of their differences; of his own flaws.

But try as he might he couldn’t stop the images of the other boy from racing through his frantic mind. He could still picture Iwaizumi on that court. His muscles contracting as he jumped. The way sweat rolled down his neck, and beneath his shirt. His damp hair slicked back messily. Even the rhythmic motion of his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, but mostly how Iwaizumi came to life when he played. The sheer power he posed, and the confidence with which he moved.

It was all so alluring. All so arousing. Pursing his lips, he leaned back. Flooded with images of his roommate, as his hand glided down his stomach. Ghosting over his skin until it plunged beneath his waist. Grabbing himself, as his legs tightened. Fingers gripping the sheets even harder than before, as he moved his hand. Teasing himself with his fingers despite the pit that had formed in his stomach.

His head leaned back against the wall. Heat shifting through his entire body, as his fingers twisted, and tightened against himself. Rubbing persistently until a soft gasp slipped past his lips. Forcing him to untangle his free hand from the bed, and press it hard against his mouth. His features flushed a deep red, as his moans were awkwardly muffled by his palm. His thighs trembling beneath the sheets, as his legs shook. Toes stretching out, and digging into the mattress.

His legs felt numb, and the heat was becoming unbearable, making his movements all the more feverish. But it was anger that drove his fingers to press hard into himself. Causing a mixture of both pain and pleasure to contort his body, back arching towards the numerous sensations washing over him. His own labored breathing against his hand nearly suffocating him, as saliva cascaded down his lips. Tongue sliding against his palm, as he sucked down on his skin. 

He was insufferable, but even as he pressed his fingers and hand into his mouth, he could still manage to groan, “Iwaizumi.”

XXX

Rolling his stiff shoulder’s back, Iwaizumi reached his free hand up to jab his fingers against the sore skin. Grumbling under his breath about being out of practice while dragging his damp shoes across the slippery floor of the dorm. Bag hanging loosely in his hand, as he ignored the throbbing of his arms. His hair slicked back, and still wet; droplets of water sliding down his throat, and tapping against his fingers. But despite the bitter cold, he was somehow warm.

The match had ended late, and his only desire now was to crawl into his bed, and sleep for the next month. Cursing Oikawa, as he dragged himself towards their room, for both leaving early, and having the option to do so for he was certain Sugawara wouldn’t have allowed him to escape. Though, he wasn’t angry at the other for skipping out. He hadn’t expected Oikawa to stay the entire time, even if a part of him had been mildly disappointed that his roommate hadn’t been there to see his team manage to scrape out a victory, but it was a thought he easily pushed aside when he reached the door.

Plopping his bag onto the ground while bending down to shuffle through it. Digging through his clothes, and equipment until he finally managed to snag the key from the very bottom of the bag. Forcing himself back onto his stiff legs, he reached forward to yank open the door, but a quick glance at the small space beneath it, and the floor made him realize that the lights inside were off. Resisting the temptation to pay Oikawa back for leaving, he carefully slid his key through the slot. Opening the door slowly, before grabbing his bag, and quietly stepping within it. His shoes not making a sound, as they slipped over onto the carpet. His footsteps easily drowned out by the soft banging of the window, and the muffled voice coming from Oikawa’s bed.

Immediately his mind went blank, and he sucked in all of the air his lungs could possibly contain in order to keep himself from shouting the word _shit_ louder than he ever had before in his life. Frozen in place, as his gaze lingered on Oikawa. Far longer than it should have. The sheets that had been covering him had been kicked off, and he could see Oikawa’s hand beneath the fabric of his pants. Body tense with the pressure that had been built up within himself. His eyes squeezed shut, as his head pushed back against the wall. Drool dripping past the hand covering his mouth, his moans loud, and titillating against his palm. Muffled by the sound of his lips sucking on his fingers.

Iwaizumi swallowed thickly. His throat dry, and scratchy. His body felt like it was on fire. Oikawa’s name on the tip of his tongue, as he continued to stare. His fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. Feet planted in place, even as his mind screamed at him to run; to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. But there was nothing he could do to erase the image of Oikawa before him from his mind.

Even in the dim light, he could make out Oikawa’s ribs, and spine beneath his skin. Of countless scars littered across areas that were normally covered, now revealed in his careless desperation. His chest heaving painfully, as liquid began to slide down his legs. Tangled within the sheets of his bed, as he moved. And then Oikawa’s head slide back, his movements losing their speed, as he leaned into his own touch. “Iwaizumi,” Oikawa moaned, soft, fleshy lips parting, as he panted out his roommate’s name.

Iwaizumi’s grip loosened, and his bag hit the floor. Oikawa’s damp eyes snapped open. Turning, horrified to Iwaizumi, but all he could manage to do was stare back, as Oikawa dislodged himself from his bed. 

He didn’t have the will to yell at him. Legs weak, as he regarded the other boy. Shoes squeaking against the carpet with each clumsily step Oikawa took towards him, attempting to maintain the distance. _Shit._ The back of his neck was burning, and he had every intention of turning tail; to flee right out of the door behind him. But he couldn’t. His body was frozen in place, and his eyes were glued to Oikawa. No matter how frustrating this man was, he couldn’t deny how attractive his voice had been when he had called out his name. He was stiff, and throbbing, and every inch Oikawa closed between them was enough to make him dizzy.

“It’s rude to stare, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice made his legs trembled, and he could barely hold the other’s gaze. Auburn eyes staring at him from beneath his eyelashes. But despite the fogginess of his own mind, he could still make out the hint of anger, and guilt that seeped into the other man’s words. And how his eyes always seemed to betray him. As if they could reveal every feeling, and emotion that Oikawa ever felt. But his tongue was dry, and his lips could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. His flushed a thousand different shades, as his mouth moved silently, and he couldn’t recall another time in his entire life that he had been this flabbergasted.

Oikawa walked past him, head down, before slipping out of the room before offering Iwazumi the chance to stop him. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him was enough to make his ears ring, and drown out the screaming of his mind. The smile faded from his lips, and the carefree expression he had held moments ago vanished upon his hardened features. His fingers rolled up into fists, and his short nails dug into his skin. Legs dragging, as he began to trek down the hallway. The distance between their room, and the bathroom now felt like miles instead of the handful of feet it actually was. If Iwaizumi hadn’t despised him before, he most certainly did now. 

“What’s wrong with me?” His lips parted in a growing frustration, and he could still feel Iwaizumi’s horrified gaze lingering on him while he walked down the hall. As if the other man’s eyes had been burned into the back of his head, and grossly aware of every single flaw he possessed. But even more disgustingly aware of how his heart had stopped when he had seen Iwaizumi’s face, and how, even now, it was beating faster than normal. Pounding away within his chest, as if to make the dozens of feelings that came over him all the more apparent to the world around him. 

Yanking open the bathroom door, he quickly fled to the nearest stall. Pulling it shut behind, as he flopped onto the filthy ground. Unclenching his hands to shove them through his messy hair. Clutching at strands, and tempted to bang his head against the wall behind him. He couldn’t begin to count the number of mistakes he had made in his life, but, for some reason, this one stood out to him the most. It made his stomach twist into a knot, and his head throb. Forcing his lungs to heave, and his chest to tighten.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back, banging it against the wall, and allowing the pain that surged through him to soothe him for the brief moment it kept his awful thoughts from flooding his mind. He was so desperate for Iwaizumi’s forgiveness that he considered returning to the room right then and there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He would, obviously, be enraged, but that was hardly of Oikawa’s concern. In the short time since they had been shoved together, he had grown accustomed to Iwaizumi’s shouting, and, right now, it was all he really wanted to hear. No matter what he said, or how angry he would became; Oikawa just wanted to be near him.

But that was incredibly selfish, even for him, despite the fact that the thought made his heart flutter, and loosened the knot in his stomach. How many years had it been since he had actually cared what another human being thought about him? When was the last time he had been afraid of someone hating him? 

Anger drove him to pull his phone from his pocket. Glaring at the screen, as he scrolled through his contacts. He needed to ease the pain in his chest, and calm his frantic mind. He wanted to dismiss everything he felt, and how stupidly in love he was.

Jamming his fingertip at one of the names, he set the phone to his ear. Wanting to hang up every time it rang, but still clinging to the line regardless. A familiar voice finally picked up., and he sucked in a breath. “It’s Oikawa, can I come over tonight?” There was a pause, and then an embarrassed jumbling of words that he could barely make out. “Oh, of course, I’ve missed you terribly.” Eventually the voice calmed down, and was more than happy to accept the offer. “I’ll be there soon,” He sang into the phone, hanging it up, and nearly throwing it across the room. Completely repulsed by himself, as he buried his forehead against his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter a bit, and I rewrote it at least three times, and then rewrote the ending at least three times, as well. But out of all of the different versions I wrote, this one ended up feeling right to me, so I apologize with the delay!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only person in this school that is willing to do laundry is apparently Sugawara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is so inconsistent, so I apologize for how sporadic my updates always are. I am still writing this, and I have a lot of plans for it, but my classes really eat up all of my time. Hopefully I'll be able to dedicate more time to this fic over the summer! But, in the meantime, thank you for tolerating the randomness of my updates! 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for your support! The comments, kudos, and bookmarks mean a lot to me! I know I don't reply to them (because I would honestly just gush incoherently at all of you), but they always make my day!

His thick fingers wrapped tightly around the smooth edges of the washing machine, hearing the rickety, old monstrosity groan in protest each time the messy collection of sheets within it slammed against its sides. The muscles within his arms contracted tightly, as he leaned forward onto the poor thing in an attempt to keep it from hobbling. The awful sounds of its grumblings were more than enough to grate against his ears without the constant thumping of its bottom against the tile floor. His already strained heart was dancing to a thousand songs within his chest, and he was determined to place as much pressure onto the machine as it could possibly hold in an attempt to force it to quiet its raging. Yet, even with his desperate attempts to mute it, the noises that gurgled up from its throat echoed throughout the dimly lit room, and spilled into the hallway connected to it.

Because it was _nearly_ five in the morning, and the only people who did laundry at five in the morning were art students, and, well, you can guess. Iwaizumi was neither, and his bright red cheeks were almost shinning in the darkness he had plunged himself into because there was no way in hell his pride was going to let him turn on the lights when he was washing every sheet that had been firmly hitched to his bed just a few hours ago. His teeth were clenched so tightly his head was starting to throb, and he couldn’t feel the slick plastic of the machine against his palms anymore. His knuckles so white they almost matched the color of the horrible appliance, as he mentally filed away a million curses for the man who didn’t have the decency to wash his sheets before hightailing it out of the room. Not that Iwaizumi had been prepared to have that conversation at the time, but he was sticking to his story for the sake of his ego.

He lowered his head, messy hair nearly kissing the lid of the washing machine as he swallowed a yawn. Frustration boiled within his bones, and made his skin hot. There were so many emotions flying through his mind that he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. Exhaustion, dread, confusion, surprise, regret; the list went on and on, but anger wasn’t where it should have been. If he was mad at all, it was at himself, for letting Oikawa walk out of that room. A part of him was terrified of how irrational Oikawa was when it came to his own health, and every fiber of his being understood that if anything happened to the older boy tonight, it would be entirely his fault for not confronting him when he had the chance.

A sigh slipped past his lips, as the door slowly creaked open. “You seem to be lost in your thoughts, Iwaizumi.” The bubbly, gentle voice was enough to make Iwaizumi’s heart lurch out of his throat. His palms slamming down against the abused machine in surprise before he quickly tore them away. Nostrils flaring while he tried to collect himself, as he forced himself to face the uninvited guest that had the audacity to disturb him. The other boy’s smile cupped his lips as smoothly as ever, making Iwaizumi’s gut twist. The other boy’s arms were squeezed around the small, purple basket within them, piled with clothes that reached his chin and obscured his soft eyes from view. Relief and dread managed to consume Iwaizumi all at once, and he was left staring at Sugawara for more than just a handful of seconds, as he tried to come up with a believable excuse to his presence in the laundry room at five in the morning.

“Yeah, I guess,” He mumbled, still trying to quell the utter terror thumping away within his chest. The petite laugh that followed his response was enough to inform him that Sugawara did, in fact, enjoy tormenting him. A fact that became even more apparent when the other boy trotted over to the spare machine beside his own, despite the two others on the opposite wall; and flopped his basket down beside Iwaizumi’s feet. His hands fishing through his freakishly neat basket to collect the bundle of clothes stuffed within it into his arms, dumping them into the machine seemingly without a care in the world.

Then he turned to poor Iwaizumi, and asked the freshmen the very question he had prayed the older boy wouldn’t, “Are you getting along with Oikawa?” And those words drilled so many nails into Iwaizumi heart that he felt his breath hitch within his dry throat.  

“Yeah.” Came Iwaizumi’s blunt, unsteady reply before he quickly turned away from Sugawara. Leaning forward on the rumbling machine to fix his gaze upon the off-white wall to ignore the other boy’s presence to the best of his ability. Arms folding beneath his chest, as his lips pursed; no part of his conscience willing to address the elephant in the room, no matter how badly his heart ached with worry. Unfortunately for him, Sugawara was both not merciful enough to drop the subject, and extremely difficult to ignore.

Sugawara’s full attention was now completely devoted to Iwaizumi. His eyes boring holes into the younger boy’s head, as he opened his mouth. A speech he had prepared long ago on the very tip of his tongue, “Iwaizumi, you should-“

_Give him a chance; he needs you._

“I know,” He snapped, cutting the other boy off. Straightening out his back by pushing his forearms hard against the machine, his fingers curled into tight fists. Anger now brewing within the back of his mind. Anger that was directed only at himself; he should have never let Oikawa leave. Consumed by guilt, confusion, and heat at the time, any ability he had to grasp the situation had left him in that moment, and he regretted it.

The images of Oikawa’s damp mouth pressed hard against his palm, of his hair slicked back with sweat, and the sweet sound of his voice as Oikawa moaned his name into the cuff of his hand that had sent his brain into a hot frenzy were still flying through Iwaizumi’s mind despite his efforts to push them aside. And, even now, the very thought of his name on Oikawa’s lips, as his fingers wandered over his smooth body was enough to make the back of Iwaizumi’s neck burn up.

Yet, even more prominent were the scars and burns he could recall etched into Oikawa’s skin, and how his rip cage pushed up against his flesh. There were more than a dozen scars that Iwaizumi could picture off of the top of his head upon his roommate’s seemingly immaculate body, and he was certain he had missed a handful in the foggy daze that had overtaken him. His slick, sculpted body was marred by the countless marks that Iwaizumi had been exposed in his nudity, and those images had remained a constant focus of his mind for the few short hours that had passed since he had seen his roommate so bare. And each time they crept to the forefront of his mind, he felt sick.

Taking a shaky breath, he tore his intense gaze away from the off-white walls to meet Sugawara’s. His fists trembling against his aching chest, as he swallowed the lump that had crawled its way into his throat. Rage and concern had overtaken his unwillingness to face Oikawa. For everything he had ever said to the other boy; for everything he had promises Sugawara, he had nothing to show to for it. Never had he considered himself such a coward before, but here he was, doing his damn best not to get involved when every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do something; anything.

His expression was laced in frustration and agony, as he finally broke the silence that he had forced between them. “How much do you know about him?” His voice was firm now. He could kick himself for not doing something sooner. The awful aching of his chest verged on unbearable now every time Oikawa’s face popped into his mind, and he wasn't certain how much longer he could endure the pain.

Surprise weaved its way into Sugawara’s expression, but it was quickly replaced by a frown he tried to hide. “A bit,” He spoke recently, “What do you want to know? 

Lifting himself from the machine, Iwaizumi tried to calm the anger surging through him by clenching his fists so tightly his entire hand went numb. “Where do you think he is right now?” His voice trembled with rage, and his calves pulsed; his muscled taut.

Sugawara relaxed slightly, a smile forcing its way back onto his lips. “If you don’t think he was going to stay the night with someone, he would probably go to the old gym; the one we’ve played in.” His gaze fell downwards, lips folding against one another for a brief moment while he seemed to battle something within his mind. “He used to be on the volleyball team here," Iwaizumi could barely make out the words, as Sugawara managed to force them out, "That gym was more of a home to him than his dorm. He still goes there, when he thinks no one is around.” His voice grew softer still with each word that left his mouth, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he should speak so freely about the other boy when he wasn't around.

“Thanks.” Without allowing enough time for the information to settle, or give the other boy the chance to question him, Iwaizumi stormed out of the room, leaving poor Sugawara with more laundry than he had expected to do.

By the time his fingers pressed against the heavy door, they were ready to fall off. His thin jersey was completely soaked through, and his exposed legs were uncharacteristically shaking in the bitter cold. If he couldn’t feel his hands before, he most certainly couldn’t feel them now. And while the heat that spilled out from the crack in the rough door was welcomed, it also made his stomach churn. A collection of prayers and curses left his pale lips in hot, breathy whispers, as he glared at the door. He knew he wasn’t prepared to face Oikawa, but he would never forgive himself if he walked away without at least trying to find the other boy. But his heart swelled painfully, and his stiff fingers curled against the hard surface of the door in hesitation. Yet, despite the anxiety that was beginning to well up within his very bones, he didn’t turn away. Instead, he sucked in a breath deep enough to make it feel as if his lungs were cramping, and willed himself to shove open the thick door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for the lack of interaction between Oikawa and iwaizumi in this chapter, but I hope the next one will make up for it! 
> 
> Also, I really adore these two songs for these guys (assuming you want to have a lot of Iwaoi feelings):
> 
> Maria Mena - This Too Shall Pass   
> Lovers & Liars - Holding On To Nothing


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos/comments/bookmarks! They mean the world to me!

Stiff fingers with thick calluses lining their hard tips pressed firmly into the countless grooves etched into the ball’s worn surface. His thumbs traced over the indents like scars upon a lover’s body, or the ones upon his own, which he knew as well as the ridges upon the volleyball in his hands. His arms ached with each and every movement he made; muscles strained against the new scars that were exposed where his T-shirt failed to hide them from his wandering eyes. He could still fill the sting of his partner’s dull nails as they punctured his flesh and tore into his skin. The burning heat of the man’s hands when they were wrapped so tightly around Oikawa’s arms that they had gone numb from the pressure. Bruises in the shape of a stranger’s palms and knuckles still discolored his skin in more places than he cared to count. The stench of the other man’s sweat clung to his body, and the thought made his fingers stall against the ball, as his nostrils curled upwards. If he could, he would have ripped his own flesh from his very bones and burn it, but even that wouldn’t be enough to erase the odor that stuck to his body. With so many different scents and marks from more man than he could begin to count, he would never be able to rid himself of every sensation clogging his mind. Hell, he would even taste that man’s smelly, slimy spit in his mouth for weeks to come.

 He leaned down, damp forehead pressing into the awkward surface of the ball, as his messy hair tumbled along its off-white surface. His lips pulled back onto a snarl to cease the awful stinging of his trembling eyes while his palms pressed so hard against the ball that he felt it might pop at any given moment. His teeth knocked against one another, grinding hard over the rough bones and his soft lip while his mind raged. He sucked in a breath so deep that he could feel his lungs quiver against his rip cage when he tried to hold it in. His eyes slipped shut, and the teeth he had been clenching plunged deep into his lip, but even his best efforts didn’t dispel the awful, burning sensation of his skin when a salty stream of liquid bean to roll down his cheeks.

 Yanking his head up, he tightened his hold around the ball for a brief moment before he swung his arms back and chucked it as hard as he could into the ground. It collided with the floor, and the impact echoed throughout the otherwise empty, quiet gym with a thud so loud it sent an unwanted shiver down Oikawa’s spine. He pushed forward to follow, but his right knee locked, sending him back down before he had even had the chance to stand up. He grabbed hold of his leg in frustration, digging his nails as deep into his skin as he could manage.

 “Damn it,” He breathed, tearing his hands away from his knee to comb them through his greasy hair. “Damn it.” He repeated, and his voice quaked, robbed of its dignity by the airy tears that rattled his body. His fingers pressed into his scalp, cupping his head within his hands as if he feared it might explode at any moment. “Damn it!” His raised voice echoed through the large, open space around him.

 He could tell himself it didn’t hurt; that he didn’t care anymore, but it never changed the fact that he wanted, more than anything, to care. Yet, here he was, alone again; covered in the marks some stranger had left upon him, for what must have been the hundredth time. He felt more pitiful than he had in years. Maybe, just maybe, he thought he might hate himself a little bit more than he usually did because no matter how many times he rubbed his fingers into his scalp, he couldn’t get Iwaizumi’s face out of his mind. And he had spent the better half of the past four hours wishing _if only it had been him._ But he knew, no matter how hard he prayed it would never be _him._ The day when Oikawa could open his eyes, and see _his_ face staring back to him would never come because he even didn’t belong in the same universe as Iwaizumi let alone the same bed.

 His pressed his palm to his mouth, and tried to swallow another shout that was threatening to bubble up from the very pit of his stomach. He loved him. He hated him. He wasn’t even sure anymore, but he was all Oikawa could think about, and the very source of everything that was spiraling out of his control. He was the reason Oikawa had walked out on someone for the first time in his life; the reason he had more bruises punched into him than usual, yet somehow they stung less than ever before. And despite all of that, Oikawa wanted nothing more than to hear Iwaizumi’s voice again.

As if he had somehow managed to signal the other boy in his desperation, the old door creaked open, and Oikawa heart leapt into his stomach; hoping to burn before the person he knew was on the other side could enter the gym. He allowed his hands to fall from his exhausted face, but his eyes remained glued to the floor no matter how intense the gaze he felt upon his back was becoming. He was pretty sure he stropped breathing before he even heard the sound of wet shoes squeak across the slick floor, and he most certainly has already said his prayers before Iwaizumi halted before him. “Oikawa.” But when he heard his name fall from those angry, plump lips, he knew he was beyond all hope.

He forced himself to look up at the other boy, his knees shaking every so slightly. “Oh, Iwa-chan, I didn’t know-“ But he swallowed his words before he had the chance to finish them when he took in the sight of Iwaizumi looming over him. His chest was heaving, thin jersey soaked through by the snow melting against his pink skin, face frozen a dull red from the cold, and rage so clearly painted across his visage that Oikawa lost himself completely in the image of the other. All he could do was stare; the words he had so carefully woven in his mind escaped him long before he could bring himself to say them.  

 “What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi panted, a flurry of emotions seeped into voice, and Oikawa was far too caught up in the other boy’s face to even pretend that he could place a name to any of them. He wanted to reach out to him; to ask him for his forgiveness and aid, but he couldn’t. He didn’t deserve it. Instead, he allowed a familiar, coy smile to grace his lips as his heart dug so deep into his stomach that he felt it burning in the fire of his own shame.

 “Just enjoying a bit of alone time, Iwa-chan,” He purred, and he could see the fuse his words lit in Iwaizumi. He despised it, but he found relief in that angry, frustrated expression he knew so well. _Hate me, please, because falling in love with you has been the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, and I can’t take it anymore._

“I’m sick of you lying to me,” Iwaizumi snapped, reaching out to grasp Oikawa’s shoulders within his hot palms. Pain surged through Oikawa’s body at the other boy’s warm touch, Iwaizumi’s fingers curling around a bruise that was nearly identical to the hands that were now pressed into his skin. But the throbbing was discarded from Oikawa’s mind when Iwaizumi captured his gaze, rendering him speechless all over again.

 “I’ve told you before, and if I tell you again in order to get anything through to you, I will. I’ll be the one to decide if I hate you or not, but you’re not even trying to meet me halfway,” Iwaizumi breathed, his voice rattling. “You’re not giving me a chance to understand what you’re going through. What the hell am I supposed to do if you won’t even try?” There was anger in his voice, and Oikawa was too absorbed in the sensation of the younger boy’s hands against his skin to notice the concern that weaved its way into that rage.

 It was pitiful; painful to hear those words, so Oikawa forced a smile back onto his features because faking it was the only thing he was good at. “There’s nothing to understand, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa spat, reaching his boiling point. Why, why had Iwaizumi entered his life? Why hadn’t he left yet? Hadn’t he done enough to make the other despise him? It was frustrating, and agonizing.

 With his emotions boiling, Oikawa snapped. “Just get out already… Get away from me!” His voice had climbed up in volume, as he forced himself onto his sore legs. Hands grapping hold of Iwaizumi’s wrists in an attempt to pry his hands from his shoulders because the sensation of Iwaizumi’s touch was so unbearable for Oikawa that he feared he might break if he was forced to endure it for much longer.

 But Oikawa’s attempt to push Iwaizumi away only seemed to draw the older boy. His gaze began to burn holes into Oikawa’s arms, as he caught sight of the bruises and cuts he hadn’t seen only four hours ago. Iwaizumi’s hold on Oikawa tightened in time with his aching heart. “Oikawa,” Iwaizumi breathed, a thousand words lingered on his tongue, but somehow the sophomore’s name was the only one that managed to escape his lips.      

 Oikawa’s eyes widened, and desperation began to sink in. “Go away,” He hissed, shoving Iwaizumi as hard as he could, and tearing the younger boy’s fingers from his shoulders. “If I wanted you around, I would have said something,” He snapped. “Just go away!” His voice was creeping into a scream, and he lashed out, trying to shove Iwaizumi away from him. He would do anything to make the overwhelming pain Iwaizumi’s guilt made him feel go away; anything to just return the emptiness he was so used to enduring.

 “Why can’t you just listen?” Iwaizumi’s voice was rising to match Oikawa’s, and he took a step closer to the enraged boy. “You-“

 “Enough! Just go already!” _Why won’t you leave? Please, God, just leave me alone. I can’t take this anymore._ His hands curled into clenched fists that spiraled towards the younger boy, but his wrists were seized by Iwaizumi before his hands made contact with his face. Jerking hard, Okiawa tried to pull out of Iwaizumi’s hold, but his unsteady legs only slid across the wet surface. His knee gave out, and his back slammed hard against the floor. He suppressed a muffled groan, and squeezed his eyes to embrace for the impact of Iwaizumi’s body. Instead, he felt a rush of air ruffle his hair, and heard the sound of Iwaizumi’s palms smack hard against the ground beside his head. His eyes pried open to the sensation of the other boy’s heat expelling over his body; a lump forming in his throat when he felt his roommate’s hair kiss his forehead. His gaze froze on Iwaizumi when he met the other boy’s gaze; Iwaizumi’s face was barely an inch above his own. The heavier boy supported his weight with his arms on either side of Oikawa’s head in his attempt to not land onto of Oikawa when the older had pulled him down.

 Oikawa’s heart stopped, and the heat that rushed through his body was palpable. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

 “What the hell are you doing?” Oikawa flinched at the harsh tone that seeped into Iwaizumi’s words. A sigh managed to push itself past Iwaizumi’s lips in what was a pathetic attempt to relax himself as he pushed his upper body from the ground, still straddling the older boy, as he brought a warm hand to the back of his neck. Iwaizumi’s skin felt like it was on fire.

 “That’s not what I meant to say,” the tension that had been building up in his muscles eased slightly, “Look, I’m not good at this, and neither are you. I’m not mad at you,” He hesitated for a brief moment, “I’m worried about you. What am I supposed to do when every time I see you, you’ve got new bruises, and all you do is avoid me? Do you honestly think you’re all alone? You’re the most infuriating person on the face of this planet, but I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to let you face whatever the hell you’re going through alone. I haven’t learned a whole damn lot, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life isn’t something you face alone.” He took a deep breath. “You might not care if I hate you, but I care if you hate me.”

 It felt like someone had punched him in the gut, and, frankly, Iwaizumi might as well have for all Oikawa cared because if there was something the sophomore hadn’t felt in the past few years, it was fear. And right now, he was terrified. His stomach felt like it might rip open at any given moment, and a cold sweat clung to his trembling body. There were words lingering on his tongue that wanted so badly to escape from his crooked mouth, but he tried to cage them, even if the pain of holding them back was greater than any beating he had received in his entire life. Iwaizumi could have said anything, and Oikawa would have flushed at the sound of his voice, but he cornered him. He felt like someone had stripped him down to his bare bones and held his entirety within their hands; to give or to take. And his head was spinning so much he wasn’t sure if he was starting to care, or if Iwaizumi had suddenly become a swirling mass above him.

 He knew _,_ there had never been a doubt in his mind because, fuck it, he was so in love with Iwaizumi that even this closeness was enough to make him quiver.

Oikawa took a deep breath, resting his forearm over his eyes. The sensation of Iwaizumi’s body against his was comforting and warm. The sound of his voice, no matter how angry he become, was so oddly soothing that Oikawa was certain Iwaizumi could drive him to the brink just by saying his name enough times. With ever fiber of his being all he desired was to be near Iwaizumi, and to hold the other in his arms was something akin to a dream for Oikawa. He was in so deep he couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that would consume him the day Iwaizumi decided he was fed up with him because no one stayed with him; it was that simple But Iwaizumi had already sliced him open, and peeled back his skin. He had already managed to fish out his beating heart, and was holding it within his hands; regardless of if he was aware of it or not.

 “Iwaizumi,” He whispered on a shaky breath, as tears began to well up within his eyes. “I-“

  _I love you._

“I’m sorry.” 

 “Yeah?” His heart fluttered at the rough sound of Iwaizumi’s response, and he felt his chest begin to swell. Tears pricked at his skin until they turned into sobs that rattled his body beneath Iwaizumi’s, and the words he had been trying to swallow somehow managed to creep back up into his hoarse, exhausted, desperate breath. 

 

“Hajime, I think I love you.” _More than anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I started this little project I never really expected anyone to hop on this wild ride with me, and it's honestly so amazing to know that so many people have given this fic a shot! It means a lot to me, I never ever thought I would even get 100 kudos on anything, so it's a shock to see it reach 200, and I am incredibly to thankful to everyone who is reading this story! I hope you've enjoyed it so far! 
> 
> I apologize for the cliche fall, but no fic based on a drama would be complete without one haha. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no way to summarize this without ruining the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay! I have a terrible time keeping an update schedule, but (even if might take me eons) I have every intention of finishing this thing. 
> 
> I have also always struggled with writing scenes of this nature, so this chapter (and the next, if I decide to lighten the mood for an entry) has been sitting on my computer half finished for quite some time (and that's not including the number of times I rewrote it entirely). I am, as always, incredibly grateful for your kindness and patience.

A hot breath lodged itself in Iwaizumi’s cracked throat, as his tongue went still against his chapped lips. His eyes were wide while he struggled to swallow with the bitter, disgustingly warm taste of his own saliva creeping upwards towards his mouth. Oikawa’s face blurred beneath him momentarily, despite their closeness, and he could have sworn the sophomore he had spent the better part of his lackluster college career attempting to get along with looked like a complete stranger beneath the dull lights hanging overhead. On instinct the freshmen clenched his jaw, and squeezed his eyes shut. As if blocking out the puffy-eyed, and desperate man before him would somehow cease the frantic thoughts rushing through his groggy mind. But if anything it made him all the more aware of the heat radiating from Oikawa’s body, and the shallow heaving of the older boy’s chest as it kissed Iwaizumi’s shirt with every breath that escaped his lungs. His thick hands balled into tight fists; damp with sweat, as his muscular arms trembled. Panic had finally begun to root itself in Iwaizumi’s body. 

It was a joke. Was the first coherent thought that made itself apparent to Iwaizumi, and it made the rapid beating of his heart nearly still. It’d happened before. He had always been a rather standoffish individual, and it was a common dare among his high school peers to confess to him. It had never bothered him. His nose had been shoved knee-deep into volleyball throughout high school, and there hadn’t been a single person capable of pulling it out. He could recall the words that had been spoken to him a handful of times back then with indifference, and he couldn’t have been bothered to name a single classmate of his despite only a few months having passed since he had graduated. But the thought of it being a joke seemed to cut horribly deep when those words came from Oikawa’s perfectly round lips; making the tips of the freshman’s fingers go numb as his chipped nails buried deep into his palms in an attempt to dull the pain that seemingly hammered at his entire body. And as fear raced through his head, all he could do was pray: please don’t let it be. 

Peeling back his eyelids, Iwaizumi allowed his vision to be filled with Oikawa once again. The older boy’s eyes were red, and swollen. His rosy cheeks were tear-stained, and the sophomore’s breathless, dry sobbing managed to consume Iwaizumi. Unable to look at Oikawa, the younger boy’s head dropped in an attempt to rip his gaze from the other. He could feel Oikawa’s exhausted pants brush across his skin in both a heated fear and hope. The older boy’s slender body was shaking between Iwaizumi’s legs, and with each shudder that passed along Oikawa’s spine, Iwaizumi could feel his bottled up desires licking at the interior of his thighs. 

And the very idea that Oikawa could have been lying to him vanished just as quickly as it had planted itself in his mind. He could kick himself for ever believing, if only for a brief moment, that Oikawa had been toying with him. Yet, it was dread, not relief that settled into the pit of Iwaizumi’s stomach. Somehow the words that Oikawa had spoken just a few short seconds ago had become both the most precious and vicious words ever spoken to him throughout his entire life. Because that the hell did Oikawa expect from him when there was nothing but fear, passion, and faith in those normally hollow eyes of his? What could Iwaizumi even hope to accomplish when Oikawa had finally spread himself out bare before the freshman?

He hated how raw the older boy’s confession had been, as if he somehow trusted Iwaizumi with his very heart, and in the freshman’s humble opinion, that was a terrible idea. No matter how badly he had wanted to come to terms with Oikawa, he couldn’t have possibly prepared himself for the sheer emotion radiating from the older boy’s body, or how timidly those words had been spoken to him of all people. 

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi breathed, as he lowered his head until his skin was nearly pressed against Oikawa. Thick creases forming upon his trembling forehead, as he pursed his lips. Teeth sinking into his lip, he tried to quell the awful beating of his heart, along with the desire to just grab Oikawa and shake some sense back into him. Hell, at this point, he might just need to beat his sanity back into himself before it completely slipped out of his grasp. “Fuck, Oikawa, I already told you I’m not good at this,” he repeated, frustration weaving its way into his unsteady voice. Yet the boy who almost never stopped spouting nonsense was silent when Iwaizumi desperately wished he would say something: anything. Leaving Iwaizumi with only the image of the older boy’s body rattling with sobs that he tried to restrain, but Iwaizumi could feel their bitter warmth against his ear, and feel their dampness against his burning cheeks. 

Sucking in a deep breath for his own sake, Iwaizumi lifted his head from the floor, and tried to collect himself because he just couldn’t do this. Not to Oikawa; he was torturing him. Bringing his hands to his head, he buried his face into his palms, allowing his fingers twisted into his slick hair, as he feverishly tried not to sallow his own tongue. “You drive me crazy,” He mumbled, as the tips of his ears reddened, and his hands fell to his side. “I can’t keep up with you. I barely know anything about you, but I also never stop thinking about you. I’ve wanted nothing more than to understand you since the day I met you, and I kept trying to convince myself that I didn’t know why I was trying so hard.” He swallowed, meeting Oikawa’s inflamed eyes with his own. 

“I think I’ve always been in love with you.” I think was cruel. It had always been I know. After all, those very words were the ones that still stung. I think was a cowardly way to put it. He knew that, and Oikawa most certainly did as well, but it somehow felt like Oikawa had every right to be a coward. When those awful words had come from the older boy, they held strength. When Iwaizumi said them, he was only trying to run away, but he was willing to spend the rest of his life facing Oikawa if he would forgive him just this once. 

Iwaizumi couldn’t have dreamed of understanding what flew through Oikawa’s head in the few minutes of daunting silence that followed his words, but how he wished he could have. Maybe then he could begin to understand the terror that had crept into Oikawa’s eyes, or the way his lips smacked. Perhaps even why the older boy’s body quivered, or the reason behind his clenched jaw when Oikawa’s stuffy nose attempted to draw in an airy breath. It was painful for more reasons than the freshman could count, and for once in his life, it took every ounce of Iwaizumi’s willpower to maintain a somewhat stoic expression on his strict features. And for a moment, the thought that he had possibly misunderstood the meaning behind Oikawa’s words had slithered back into his mind. He was; however, certain that if the older boy didn’t say something soon he might just lose it; because the amount Oikawa meant to him was becoming more apparent by the moment, and Iwaizumi could feel the heat that wiggled onto his rosy cheeks increasing the longer he was forced to stare into those deep, almond eyes. 

“A-Are you being serious, Hajime? Please tell me you’re serious,” Oikawa’s words cracked weakly through his hushed sobs, as he pressed his elbows against the hard floor; prying his shirt from the static that tried to glue it to the ground. Propping up the front half of his body in order to reach out, and grasp the younger boy’s shirt in his fisted hands. The dampness of his own palms seeped into the thin fabric that loosely hugged Iwaizumi’s muscular frame as his eyes poured into Iwaizumi. The desperation in his gaze, and the voice that had somehow managed to leak out of the boy’s trembling throat was overwhelming for Iwaizumi. 

“W-What?” Iwaizumi spit out, consumed by Oikawa’s presence, and the sensation of the older boy’s weight, as Oikawa nearly pulled Iwaizumi back down on top of himself. 

“Are you serious?” Oikawa’s gaze remained fixed on Iwaizumi’s face, and his fingers tightened around the wad of fabric that they had managed to collect. His tone was humorless, and his body tense when he spoke. Oikawa’s teeth must have grinded holes into one another by now from how tightly he had been shoving them together in an attempt to not scream the words into poor Iwaizumi’s face. His puffy, red face bit back another onslaught of tears that threatened to overflow at any given moment. 

Swallowing thickly, Iwaizumi’s gaze drifted from the eyes that were so intensely studying him. The back of his neck burned with budding embarrassment, but his hands lifted to grasp the older boy’s. Stiff, calloused tips digging into Oikawa’s soft skin, as he drew in a breath, and willed his attention back onto the other boy. It was hard enough to think with the sophomore staring at him with what must have been a thousand different emotions that Iwaizumi couldn’t have hoped to place a name to, and likely never felt over the course of his young life. Speaking, though, that was nearly impossible for the dry-mouthed, hard-lipped boy. He wanted to say the right thing, but his high school years would tell him this wasn’t something he had a talent for, and Oikawa was the last person on this planet he wanted to disappoint. 

So, filling his lungs with all of the air they could manage to hold, he blurted out the first words that had crossed his mind before any part of him could catch up with the frantic thumping of his aching heart. “Of course I’m serious, dumbass, how many times do you want me to say it? I’ll say it over and over again until it gets through that thick head of yours. I love you.” It was hardly the most eloquent speech to come out of his mouth, and he had practically screamed his confession at Oikawa this time around, but if there had been any doubt lingering in the older boy’s thoughts it would surely be gone now. His hands had unconsciously tightened around Oikawa’s, and he could feel the heat that poured out from his own, damp palms when compared to how cold the sophomore felt within his grasp. It was uncomfortable, awkward even, but he didn’t budge. 

Oikawa’s pasty hands slipped away from Iwaizumi’s to cover his swollen, salty face. His throbbing lungs released the deep breath they had been subconsciously holding, as everything he had been attempting to hold back broke through at once. Dull nails tangled into his messy hair, as his palms muffled the horrifically loud sound of his own sobbing. Leaving his normally composed, immaculate face covered in mucus and sweat that would have been unimaginable at any other point in time, but because it this was Iwaizumi he was currently at the mercy of, it was fine. 

“H-Hey,” Iwaizumi blurted out, but the strength behind his words quickly deteriorated. This was Oikawa, and the younger boy was starting to learn that there would never come a time when he would be able to completely understand him. And instead of trying, he slipped his arms around Oikawa’s back, and drew the other boy to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, as well as for your continued patience and support! It means a lot to me!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa makes important phone calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and support! I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, but here it finally is! 
> 
> Also, I finally have a Tumblr (Skeletons-to-ashes), for anyone interested in chatting/whatnot!

A groan fluttered past Oikawa’s slightly parted lips as he felt the phone lodged between his pillow and the mattress vibrate for what felt like the hundredth time since he had pried his groggy eyes open a mere two hours ago. Curling his fingers around the messy, and already bunched up sheet beneath his lanky body, he swallowed the curse that had made its way into his throat before plunging a fisted hand beneath the pillow. Fingers lazily groping at the phone he knew was buried somewhere under his head, but the amount of effort it took for him to fish it out was hardly worth it. Clutching the object tightly against his palm, he jabbed his thumb at the screen with little resolve. A frown had already managed to spread wide across his attractive features, leaving behind wrinkles that would remain for hours. Four missed calls, only two of which had bothered to leave a message, and a couple dozen unread texts that he just couldn’t _wait_ to unwrap.

Pursuing his smooth, wet lips, the sophomore shifted ungracefully onto his back, and nearly slammed his body against the firm mattress in the process. Sucking in a deep breath, he swiped a trembling, stiff finger across the slightly cracked screen with no sense of urgency. Allowing his index finger to hover over the call button, he sucked in a deep breath, before he chose to retreat into the depth of his unanswered texts instead; this was easier, or so he thought. His brows pulled together, and his fine features scrunched together so tightly that he feared the creases digging into his forward would never fade. His teeth clenched tightly, digging so deeply into one another that his jaw was becoming sore. But the anger that riddled his face with more lines than he cared to count subsided suddenly, and with such sickening ease that even Oikawa himself was surprised to find a smile weaving its way onto his lips. An airy laugh began to bubble up within his gut, and he could feel his chest bounce with each chuckle he tried to suppress, but even more apparent was the rush of his own stomach when the familiar name was sprawled across the screen. And he couldn’t hide his grin, as he tapped on the series of horribly disorganized messages from one Hajime Iwaizumi: 

_Hey so uh I thought I should text you since you weren’t feeling well this morning. I tracked down one of your Theory classmates, and got some notes about the lecture you missed. If you’re gonna miss your other classes today let me know and I’ll get Sugawara to help me find someone from them. He’s…really resourceful. Anyway, I hope you feel better soon. Take it easy. If you need anything, just text me. I’ll get it for you._

The messages were crowded into long, awkwardly broken up texts that Oikawa could have only imagined the other boy’s phone had done for him as a result of Iwaizumi attempting to send it one giant blurb. Despite the obvious, uncomfortable stiffness that radiated from the messages, they still somehow made Oikawa’s heart soar straight into his mouth. With his fingers still looming over the screen, he tried to repress the smile that threatened stretched across his lips, but failed miserably.

He didn’t have the heart to tell the other boy he hadn’t studied a single day in his life, and that it’s been years since he had actually bothered to take notes. But the fact that Iwaizumi knew his schedule (or had cared enough to get it out of Sugawara) was enough to make his stomach twist in a thousand different ways he would have never believed possible before. He could begin to feel a gentle prickle crawling out from the corners of his eyes before he inhaled sharply; lungs swelling and heart aching so bitterly it left a sweet taste on the tip of his tongue. The pads of his fingers were quick to fly across the screen; too quickly for his own good, and much too desperate for someone like Oikawa, but he’d be damned if Iwaizumi didn’t make his entire being shutter like he was 15 years old again, and in love for the very first time. 

_You’re so thoughtful, Hajime! I’m not planning on attending my afternoon classes. I’m still not feeling well, so I’m gonna take the day off. And anything hmm~ Oh that’s so tempting, but all I need is you! Thank you, Iwa-chan, Love you!_

A lump had managed to fix itself in his throat, as he typed. He hated lying to Iwaizumi; hated not being able to be anything more than a pathetic excuse for a human being, who preferred pretending to be sick in bed all day than actually facing his problems. But avoiding reality had always been one of his many talents, and old habits were hard to kill.

The phone vibrated against his palm before he had time to linger on the thoughts for long. Glancing down at his phone proved to restore a smile upon his features, and serve as a reminder for how disgustingly easy it was for iwaizumi to change his mood entirely.

_All right, I’ll get you notes from those too. You better study once you feel better._

There was a long pause; just long enough to make Oikawa regret the second half of his message before, _My classes are finished at five. I’ll bring you food._ Another pause, _I love you, too._

Oikawa sunk into his rock-hard pillow without a single thought floating through his giddy head. His face flushed a thousand different shades of red, but even the horrifically embarrassing sound of his own heartbeat couldn’t drown out the sound of the guilt that now plagued his entire being. How many times had he lied to Iwaizumi now? A million, at least; he’s almost certain. And he would lie a million more times before his filthy mouth confessed every single sin he had ever committed to the boy he was so enamored of. He was a mess; he always was, but now he’s even more convinced of the fact that Iwaizumi’s ruined him in every way he both needed and didn’t desire.

Damp, messy brown hair spilled out over the off-white surface of his bunched up bed sheet when the sophomore turned his head to stare at the empty bed only a few meager feet from his own. The dark green sheet had been tucked, without a single wrinkle, beneath either side of the other boy’s mattress, and the matching blankets were folded so outrageously neat at the foot of Iwaizumi’s bed that Oikawa had to swallow the increasing urge to walk over there and mess them up. Even his pillows were stacked evenly against the headboard. Compared to his roommate, Oikawa’s half of the room was in compete disarray. His sheet hanging half over the side of his bed, half over his bare legs, and twisted into so many crevices between that he couldn’t have been bothered to count even half of them. His blanket had been kicked off at some point, and was in a heap upon the floor beside the two of three pillows that normally dotted his mattress.

Somehow, he was under in the impression Iwaizumi’s side of the room spoke volumes about the other boy, and it reminded Oikawa so much of the freshmen that he thought his heart would break just by looking at for too long. But when he stared at that familiar, yet empty mattress; at the half of the room that belonged to Iwaizumi, he felt joy creep into every corner of his body. Fear; however, always seemed to follow when his thoughts turned to the other boy. The very tips of his toes curled inward against the ball of his feet, and he could feel his chest begin to tighten. The simple idea that Iwaizumi might eventually become sick of him, and leave him wandered through his mind in time with a numbing shiver that made his entire body jerk uncomfortably. He could name every flaw that plagued him. He was rash, imperfect, violated, marred, overly dependent, and a thousand other things he knew Iwaizumi would grow to hate one day. But he didn’t want to be these things, and he didn’t want to give Iwaizumi a reason to detest him.

Wrinkling his nose as a small whimper bubbled up in his throat, he tore his gaze away from the other boy’s bed, and dragged himself into an upright sitting position. Fingers balling into a fist around his phone, he plunged back into the series of unread messages that still lit up its screen. The name alone was enough to make his skin crawl, and he was seriously contemplating not answering at all, but on the short list of things he could do for Iwaizumi, ending his touch and go relationship was at the very top. Despite this, building up the courage to dial that oh-so familiar number was more difficult than he ever could have imagined. For over two years he had used more strangers as a crutch than he would ever willingly admit to Iwaizumi, and he hated every single one of them. Even so, the petty, selfish, lust-based relationships he had become so accustomed to were comforting in the fact that it meant he wouldn’t be alone, and that, when they cut him out from their lives, it wouldn’t hurt even half as much as one sentence from Iwaizumi’s lips.

Tucking his legs beneath his stiff body, He could still feel the sting of the fist-sized bruises that dotted his porcelain skin. When he inhaled, he could still smell the other man’s thick cologne upon his skin, and his lips curled in disgust at the number trapped beneath his trembling fingertip. He hated how everything reminded him of a man he hated, of a man he couldn’t be allowed to forget until the countless marks left upon his body healed. He hated himself more though; he always had, for letting things spiral out of his control. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his finger down onto the number, and held his breath.

The brief, reassuring, and silent moment it took the phone to connect was shattered by the obnoxious, deafening ring that followed all too quickly for Oikawa’s likening. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he mentally prayed for the answering machine to pick up, but he had never been a lucky person. And he wouldn’t be today either. There was a soft click on the other end before the huffy, deep voice of the man Oikawa had walked out on only one night ago answered the phone. And in all of the cursing, hatred, and anger that streamed out against his ears, the sophomore could only continue to hold his breath. His tongue pressing hard into the back of his teeth, as his stiff knees ached beneath his body, all while his mind reeled. _This was a mistake._ It was a fleeting thought that flew through his head before he shoved it aside in an act of defiance that was almost too strange for him. _No, it’s not._

Throat dry and sore, he pushed down the spit that had stilled within his warm mouth before parting his chapped lips and sucking in all of the air his lungs could possibly hold. “Never call me again, we’re through,” He screamed into the phone so loudly he’s certain every single student in the first floor hall had heard him before he slammed his thumb down upon the screen, and threw his phone into his mattress so hard he’s honestly shocked he didn’t shatter what remainder of the glass when it smacked against the hard surface.

Nostrils flaring, he brought his fingers to his damp forehead, and weaved them through his hair. Ruffling up the brown, fluffy mess that covered his scalp so much that he would have had trouble recognizing himself the next time he looked in a mirror. He leaned back with the dull thud of his spine colliding with the wall, and allowed the pain that followed to flow through his body. For a moment, his hands froze; still tangled within his hair, and only the sound of his heaving lungs to keep him company. The phone was positioned facedown against the bottom of his feet, and it didn’t vibrate anymore. When he finally managed to inhale again, he no longer thought he smelled like the other man.

It’s been two years since they day he might as well have died; since the day he shattered his knee, and, somehow, he’s never felt more alive than he did right now. With his heart pounding away in his ears, his knee didn’t quite ache as much as it always did, the thoughts that constantly rolled about within his overactive mind stilled for a moment. That disgusting, almost violated feeling that made his skin feel greasy, and his sweat smell like oil left his skin for once. His chest moved up and down slowly, and he’s become almost acutely aware of the fact that he’s alive; he’s breathing. And for the first time in those two years, he’s cared enough to make an effort to move on. To forget about the day he ruined his knee; destroyed his future; stopped trying to just live, and he’s never felt more at peace with the sound of his body just trying to work rapidly beating into his eardrums that he thinks maybe they’ll explode. And if they did; he thinks maybe that would be just fine.

_Because maybe everything will be fine._

Yanking his head away from the wall, he reaches for his phone. The urge to call Iwaizumi enough to make his arms shake when his fingers wrap around the object. He’s probably in class right now. Oikawa should probably know his boyfriend’s schedule, but he, shockingly, never bothered to check (and he makes a mental note to do so later). Somehow, though, he’s almost certain Iwaizumi will answer his phone regardless, despite the fact that the machine is still buzzing away on the third ring until it finally clicks on the fifth. The harsh, disoriented, _“What”_ that vibrates against Oikawa’s ear is so reassuring that he can feel another series of stings prinking at the corners of his eyes.

“I just wanted to tell you,” He pauses for a moment, if only so he can hear Iwaizumi for a second before working up the will to continue, “I really do love you, Hajime.” The line goes dead, and Oikawa is positive Iwaizumi just stopped breathing because he most certainly hadn’t hung up. “Hajime?” He ventures again, but Iwaizumi still isn’t answering him.

Then he can hear the younger boy take a deep breath, _“Yeah, I love you too,”_ The words are muffled, and he’s so clearly so embarrassed that it makes Oikawa’s heart flutter. _“Are you okay?”_ He hadn’t realized how serious his tone had been until those words brought it to his attention. With his hand clutching the phone, and his entire body rigid against the wall, he was tense enough that he could imagine what must be going through the other boy’s mind.

Releasing the breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding, Oikawa forces himself to relax ever so slightly. “I’m fine. I just really wanted to hear the sound of your voice,” He admits, and he can hear Iwaizumi’s breath hitch.

_“All right, I’ll be there soon.”_

“Wait, you don’t have-“ But Iwaizumi had hung up the phone before Oikawa could protest. It’s only three, and he knows the other boy has two hours worth of classes left, but he hears the distinct sound of a keycard being swiped at the door only a few minutes later. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say thank you a lot (but not as often as I would like), but as of today (September 30) it's been a full year since I started this story, and I still can't believe how many people have taken time out of their lives to read, comment, or give it kudos. I'm blown away by the support I've received, and just how patient all of you have been with me (because I know my update non-schedule is ridiculous, and this chapter alone took me four rewrites). I can't believe that some of you have stuck with me since I started this fic, and I also can't believe how many of you have read it since. I'm so incredibly grateful for everything. I always look back at this fic when I'm feeling down, and I think I've read the comments on this story at least a hundred times. It's been such an amazing experience so far, and I still have so much left to do on this story, so I'm excited to keep working at it (even if it takes me forever)! I know I sound like a broken record when I say your support means the world to me, and has made me so happy over this past year, but there really aren't enough times that I can actually type that out. 
> 
> I really hope all of you are having a great day, and thank you all so much for everything!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that contains the fluff all of you deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support, and for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Inhaling a hot, deep breath through already horrendously flared nostrils, the freshmen lifted a balled fist to the awkwardly stained door while his other clutched his cardkey so tightly he was mildly concerned he would snap it in half. His fist; however, came to a screeching halt before it would have bashed right into the solid surface positioned before it with such a dramatic and uninspired sigh that Iwaizumi feared Oikawa might have possibly started rubbing off on him. This was his room; he shouldn’t be mildly terrified every single time he swiped his key, but the tension between the small space fixed between himself and the door was almost enough to suffocate him. It was pathetic, really, but he was more nervous to see Oikawa at this very moment than he ever had been in the past, which is so incredibly stupid that Iwaizumi has to resist the urge to his forehead to knock instead of his hand. In the back of his mind he can vaguely understand that the source of his anxiety is, in fact, Oikawa, but not in the same sense the boy had been before. Instead of dreading coming back to the dorm, a mild excitement had fluttered through his body, and he feels desperate. Desperate because he wants nothing ore than to help the older boy, and find a way to at least bring a little joy into his life, but he’s come to realize that the sophomore is about as unpredictable as he is stubborn, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was fighting a losing battle just yet. 

Shoving aside the careless thoughts from his already bogged down mind, Iwaizumi finally slammed his fist into the door with the grace of a thousand screaming children before fumbling with the very card key he had been holding so tightly a moment ago. With calloused fingers now seemingly unable to grasp the key, he just barely managed to clumsily slide it through the slot upon the door in his frustration. Inhaling again, he accidentally flung the door open with enough strength to make is bash against the inside wall. Hearing the back of the handle smack hard against the solid wall (and knowing it that was going to leave a mark he would be paying the dorm for at the end of the semester), he visibly winced while mentally praying he hadn’t just subjected Oikawa to the very heart attack he had just given himself.

Prying open his eyes after they had squeezed shut on instinct, he chanced a glance in the direction of Oikawa’s bed. Stock-straight against the wall, and eyes wide, he stared back at Iwaizumi for one, horrifically long second before blinking. He somehow, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay, managed to ease a smile onto his stupidly smooth lips of his. A frown, though, was what Iwaizumi came up with in the same amount of time; naturally harsh expression fixed on the oh so clearly not sick boy wrapped up in the messy sheets discarded across his mattress. 

Oikawa pursed his lips at the expression spreading across the other boy’s features, but the look of mock innocence that smothers his face is enough to piss Iwaizumi off even more. He knows he’s made a mistake, really, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to casually brush it off. “Iwa-chan, you didn’t have to come back.”

Oikawa had practically purred when he had spoken the words, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure if that pisses him off more, or if it excites him. Either way, he swallows whatever bizarre sensation that had rattled his body at the sound and sight of the other boy. Oikawa’s loose shirt was dangling open at his collarbones, and his sleek hair was still damp from the shower Iwaizumi assumes he must have taken rather recently. And his voice, well, his voice is the same as always; smooth, attractive, and roughly a hundred steps in front of Iwaizumi at any given time. Despite this, the freshmen collects himself so quickly that he’s almost shocked by his own sense of perseverance.

Reaching back to snake a hand over his shoulder, he tugs at the thick strap of the hefty bag situated on his back, and takes a few, calculated steps towards his roommate. “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa blurts out, as his bare feet shove against the mattress in a pitiful attempt to scurry away from the rage he can just feel radiating from the younger boy. “Iwa-chan, let’s be civil here. You can’t tell me you’ve never just skipped class for fun before.” He’s fairly certain Iwaizumi either chose to ignore his babbling or didn’t hear him at all because the freshmen is still storming over to his bed, and this very well have been the most terrifying moment in Oikawa’s entire life. 

Fingers wrapping tightly around the strap of his bag, Iwaizumi closes a fist around it and yanks it off of his shoulder. With one hand holding up the backpack that must have weighed a good twenty pounds, if he had any right to guess, Iwaizumi dropped it into a heavy heap upon Oikawa’s bed before exhaling the breath he had been holding since he had entered the dimly lit room. Chest visibly deflating, and anger leaving his features, the upper corners of his lips tugged into a gentle smile that both shocks and horrifies Oikawa at the same time because, yes, Iwaizumi looks even more attractive while smiling, but also, he has no idea what it means, and that’s reason enough to be mortified by it.

“I got all of the notes from the classes you’ve missed today,” Iwaizumi finally admits, but Oikawa is too busy staring at those slightly up-curved lips to even begin to process the words leaving them. “I’ll help you study.” That; however, Oikawa most certainly heard.

With a grin sweeping over his smooth face, Oikawa slams his hands down onto the bed so hard that he nearly makes Iwaizumi jump with the sudden life he’s somehow acquired out of seemingly nowhere, but the only thing on Oikawa’s mind are the words, _I’ll help you study,”_ because he’s heard them a thousand times before, and he knows exactly what typically follows them. “Really?” He finally works up the nerve to ask; gaze glued on the younger boy with such intensity that it’s almost unsettling. 

“Uh, yeah,” Iwaizumi said. He wants to back away from the bed, but he remains rooted in place. He’s already committed himself to cheering the older boy up after how distraught he had appeared the past few days, and he’s also far too stubborn to go back on his word now. How hard can it be anyway? He skimmed through Oikawa’s books, and, frankly, most of the material seemed like common sense to him.

“I’m _excited._ ” There’s a hitch in Oikawa’s voice that makes Iwaizumi nearly stop breathing all over again, but he closes the distance between himself and Oikawa’s mattress regardless of the parts of his brain that are screaming at him, in order to lean over the bag he had dropped there.

“Good,” Iwaizumi simply says, and he unzips the bag to plunge his hands into the deep depths of it in order to fish out the collection of eight or so notebooks Sugawara had handed to him with the very clear warning that Oikawa was terrible at studying and would most certainly try to get out of it, but he had been kind enough to supply Iwaizumi with not only what the older boy had missed today, but _everything_ he had missed this semester. Yanking the collection of books out, he drops them in front of Oikawa’s slightly curled toes. “Because you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped open, and he stared blankly at the pile that had been tossed down before him. “You’re joking right?” The slight hiccup of hope draining into his voice is shattered by the stern look that creeps over Iwaizumi’s face. _He’s not kidding,_ and Oikawa is both amazed that Iwaizumi had meant _actually_ studying, as well as severely disappointed.

“Of course I’m not,” Iwaizumi responded curtly enough to inform Oikawa that he hadn’t been even the slightest bit aware of the implications that could have been drawn from his offer. “Where do you want to start?” Oikawa’s convinced the freshmen is trying to act just a tad bit friendlier towards him, but he can see the other boy’s awkward smile begin to fade, and his voice is so naturally harsh that it’s difficult to tell how serious Iwaizumi is at any given time because he always sounds like he is.

“Iwa-chan, this is too much,” Oikawa finally exhales, stretching out his legs, as he flops down upon the pathetic excuse for a pillow he calls his favorite one. It really was, though; he knew how much work he had missed, and even if he had committed himself to at least showing up to his classes for the time being, he hadn’t exactly become dedicated enough to spend his “free-time” studying hours worth of material he would never consume enough of to prepare himself for any exam that was thrown his way.

“It’s not that difficult,” Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa smothers his face into the pillow he can’t believe is comfortable enough for the older boy to even attempt to suffocate himself with. “We’ll work through it together.” He still hasn’t actually worked up the nerve to venture onto Oikawa’s bed to shove the notebooks into the poor boy’s face, but he’s seriously considering it, and that’s what really matters. 

Lifting his face from the pillow, Oikawa rolled his hands beneath its bumpy form in order to pull it up into his arms while shifting into a cross-legged sitting position. With his chin resting on the edge of the pillow, he draws his arms around it in order to hug it tightly to his chest. His lips tugged into a pout that could have only been rivaled by, well, to be honest Iwaizumi’s too embarrassed to admit that Oikawa is both the most attractive and cutest thing that he can think of at the moment. That doesn’t make him any less determined to keep the other boy from flunking out of college, though.

“I would rather do something else with you,” Oikawa mumbled into the pillowcase before settling a glare onto the younger boy. He is aware that what he truly desires from Iwaizumi is impossible, and that he’s already loaded the other up with so many expectations that the freshmen is doomed to fail, but that will never stop Oikawa from hoping; from praying, that Iwaizumi still stick around longer than anyone else had in his short lifetime.

Iwaizumi can assume Oikawa isn’t expecting an answer from him; not with the way the words had been spoken, but he’s not falling for the older boy’s nonsense. Not today, so he looks Oikawa dead in the eyes, and asks, “Yeah, like what?” He regretted the words the moment they came out of this mouth, because he’s pretty sure Oikawa would prefer to do anything but study with him. Iwaizumi; however, was only somewhat certain he actually wanted whatever the hell Oikawa’s now aggressively wide lips were about to purpose. 

To Iwaizumi’s surprise, Oikawa appears to withdraw further into himself rather than belt out some outlandish request. His arms tangled tightly around the pillow, and his gaze dropped down to the pile of notebooks positioned at his now wrinkling toes. His eyelashes swept across his skin, as he hesitates for far longer than Iwaizumi would have ever dreamed, but Oikawa can still work up the courage to chance a rather meek glance at the younger male. “Can I ask you for something from you then, Hajime?”

The sudden shift in the other boy’s mood is jarring, but in the short time Iwaizumi had gotten to know Oikawa, he’s not caught off guard by it, and it’s a relief to him; to know that he’s in the process of beginning to understand the boy he was desperate for. “Yeah, go ahead.” He’s stupidly nervous, and he tries to not let his cracking voice reveal the trembling of his fingertips as he rolls his hand into a tight fist to calm his overworked nerves down.

“Then…” Oikawa’s face flushed a deep red, and Iwaizumi knows he’s about two seconds away from storming out of the room to scream at the top of his lungs because he’s both terrified and mildly excited about whatever is going to follow the almost embarrassed expression painting Oikawa’s immaculate features. “Would you be willing to kiss me?” Iwaizumi’s mouth must have dropped open because he can just vaguely make out the chuckle vibrating in the other boy’s throat. 

“What?” He’s dumbstruck, and he looks so much like a deer in headlights that Oikawa almost feels awful for even entertaining the idea. A part of him even hates himself for brining it up. Of course, Iwaizumi would be against the idea; _he’s afraid to commit to you, and he should be._ “Never mind,” He blurts out quicker than he would have liked to admit. Even if Iwaizumi was willing, he wouldn’t have been worth the other boy’s trouble, and Oikawa knows he’s the most unworthy person in the world of being the young boy’s first kiss, because, let’s face it, Iwaizumi had virgin written across every single part of his body; lips included.

Swallowing the thick lump upon his still tongue, Iwaizumi makes a pitiful attempt to recover from his initial shock by forcing out the words, “No, it’s fine.” _And it truly is._

Oikawa’s eyes widen, and he stares at the younger boy for a long moment. _He’s lying,_ the thought rampages through his mind, as he watches Iwaizumi shift awkwardly upon his feet. _He’s nervous because it’s not fine,_ but Iwaizumi doesn’t look uncomfortable. His face is hot, and his cheeks have flushed a deep red; his fist opens and closes, but his body language is rather open. “Is it?” Oikawa almost whispers, gaze never leaving the other boy.

Iwaizumi’s expression still for a moment, and becomes serious. He can’t know what Oikawa is thinking, but he can understand the way he watches him, and the fear hidden within his voice. “Yes, it’s fine,” He states, more firmly this time.

“Really?” Oikawa’s face lights up, and he looks happier than Iwaizumi can ever recall seeing him before. It’s as if the doubt that had wrinkled his forehead had completely vanished from him, and he’s a completely different person. A person Iwaizumi is overjoyed to lay eyes upon. Oikawa is shinning, and he’s smiling the most genuine smile he’s ever seen cross the boy’s features. And is makes his heart stop.

“Yes.” Iwaizumi is shocked by his own confidence despite the fact that he’s fairly certain his heart is on fire, and his face might melt off in the next few seconds. It’s amazing, really.

Both fall silent for a long moment before Oikawa finally manages to force out, “Hajime, _please_.”

Mouth dry, and throat burning, Iwaizumi leaned forward to place his palms against the unsteady surface of the mattress. He can feel how warm his skin is when its pressed up against the cold surface of the bed. With his lips slowly cutting down the distance between his own and Oikawa’s, he can see when the older boy’s eyelids flutter shut, and even the smooth texture of his mouth. There is moisture collected upon his lips, and his mouth is parted open ever so slightly. Iwaizumi is certain his heart has stopped beating for too long now, and he can’t even begin to remember if he’s breathing or not. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

Oikawa is beautiful. He has been beautiful, and Iwaizumi’s own eyes squeeze shut a thousand times less gracefully than Oikawa’s had because he’s not sure he can look at Oikawa any longer, or he might just lose his mind. And he clumsily leans forward to press his lips to the older boy’s. The tension and anticipation in the air is palpable. Iwaizumi is uncharacteristically nervous, and his hands are shaking enough to make the mattress quiver beneath them, but he holds his breath, leans in, and proceeds to slam his mouth straight into Oikawa’s nose before smacking his forehead hard against the other boy’s in what must have been the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him in his entire life.

Oikawa’s eyes fly open, as he swallows the pained hiss that’s about to leave his throat while his hands move to rub the bump that’s slowly forming on his pale skin. “I-Iwa-chan,” He whines before bursting out into laughter so loud Iwaizumi can see his own dignity being shattered within the bubbling motion of the other boy’s chest. His face is a thousand different shades of red as he watches Oikawa clutch his chest, and try to get a grip on himself, but he’s gasping for air between his laughs, and tears are beginning to flow from the corners of his eyes. And Iwaizumi is fairly certain he’s just going to drop dead right then and there, but he’s still, admittedly desperately, clinging onto his pride. 

“Hey, dumbass, it wasn’t that funny,” Iwaizumi spits, but he’s so horrified with himself that his voice cracks when the words leave his lips, only serving to further mortify the poor boy, and make Oikawa laugh harder. Had he not been so horrified by his clumsy attempt to kiss the other boy, he would have taken more offense to the hand curled tightly around Oikawa’s gut as the older boy’s other hand smacked against his knee seemingly in sync with his laughter. “Hey,” Iwaizumi adds a bit louder in an attempt to get the older boy’s attention because he’s pretty sure he might actually die if Oikawa keeps laughing at him like that.

Bringing up a trembling hand to swat away the tears that had formed within his eyes, Oikawa finally looks at Iwaizumi again. “That’s not how you kiss someone, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa manages to force out, as a grin slides across those stupid lips of his. “This is how you kiss someone, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa is on his knees before Iwazumi can even process what’s happening. His arms locked behind the other boy’s neck, and he lungs forward to place the entirety of his weight upon Iwaizumi’s unsuspecting back, forcing the freshmen to stumble forward, and onto the bed; landing practically on top of the older boy. But he doesn’t have the chance to check if Oikawa is alive beneath him before the other boy yanks him down, and smashes his lips against his. Hot, wet, messy, and tasting almost as good as Oikawa smells, Iwaizumi’s mind went blank, but he manages to kiss Oikawa back. His own mouth is ungainly, and greedy as it pushes back; smothered by Oikawa’s heat and passion, he feels like he’s being devoured.

Iwaizumi pulls away rather abruptly. Breathless and hot, he rolls off of Oikawa and onto his back beside the older boy. His ears are clogged by the sound of his own heart hammering away against his rip cage, and his head is spinning so fast he’s still seeing blotches of white against the ceiling. But he swallows, and turns to look at Oikawa. There’s a grin upon the other boy’s lips, and he looks so damn proud of himself that Iwaizumi almost wants to punch, if only so he can feel as winded as Iwaizumi does in that very moment.

“So, how was your lesson, Iwa-chan? I hope you study hard,” Oikawa sings, and Iwaizumi does in fact want to punch him this time.

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support, as always! It means the world to me, and I hope this chapter provides just a bit of the fluff all of you deserve for sticking with this fic, and my horribly sporadic uploading schedule. Again, if you'd like to talk or see updates on my progress, feel free to contact me on my Tumblr (Skeletons-to-ashes)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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